Constellations
by Hermia S
Summary: ME1/ME2; SPOILERS. Calla Shepard has spent most of her life trying to achieve an ideal, but does this mean finally having what she wants or will she realize what she needs?
1. Tattoos

When things finally slowed, Shepard found her way back home. She'd talked about this visit many times during their last missions, an almost uncharacteristic excitement coming over her as she invited anyone and everyone to visit her place back on Earth. Some of them politely declined. Ashley was too anxious to get back home herself, while both Wrex and Liara had expressed an interest in a visit. Tali claimed that she wanted to, but she had to get back to the Flotilla with the geth data in tow. Joker, Chakwas, Pressly - she all expected them to show their faces soon. She did boast having all the beer you could possibly ever want, after all.

It took a while for her to be approached by the one member of the team who hadn't said a word to her invitation. She was just about to board a ship when he called out to her, a hand lifted in the air as he gave a small wave and a, "See you soon, Shepard."

A week later, Wrex had already gotten tired of Earth and left in no small hurry. Liara was indoors, flipping curiously through the stations on the vid screen. She'd left Garrus inside, too, pouring over her collection of old novels. Nothing too fancy. No Shakespeare or Keats; she wasn't a scholar by any stretch of the word. Ever since she was a little girl, she'd been obsessed with space. When she finally had the cash, she put most of it into finding age old editions of 20th century science fiction novels.

But after spending so much time cooped up indoors, she felt overwhelmed by the sudden desire to be outside. Pulling a thick blanket around her shoulders, she left her company to whatever pleased them and made her way out into the backyard.

Now that she could actually afford the finer things, Calla's first purchase had been a house outside of the city she'd grown up in. The bright lights and busy streets didn't entice her as it has when she was younger. Instead, something less busy was to be her new homestead - somewhere she could see the stars. After spending so much time among them, being back on the ground without being able to see them just wouldn't do.

The February air was chilly, but Calla soon settled down in the damp grass. With aid of the blanket, the temperature was more of a comfort than a problem. She enjoyed time alone as much as the next person, but she wasn't completely alone. Not really. With the sound of Joker's teasing laughter in the background, as well as the constantly changing channels, she almost felt like she was back in the room despite her staring up at the stars.

It was difficult to find something that could match the beauty of a sky filled to the brim with tiny white dots. As a teenager, she'd discovered astronomy completely by accident. Her fellow Reds laughed at her for it, but their mocking didn't dissuade her. Even when she was still nothing more than an initiate, she had the idea ground into her head that she was going to join the Alliance. She'd swim in those stars.

The sound of feet on the ground behind her tore her attention away from the sky. She craned her neck to see who it was, a warm smile spreading over her lips when she recognized Garrus' familiar shape moving towards her through the poorly lit backyard.

"You spend so much time out there," he said, slowing to a stop beside her. "You don't get sick of it?"

Calla shook her head and curled the blanket tighter around her shoulders. "It's different for me. You probably traveled up there all your life." She patted the ground beside her. Wiping the dew off of her palm, she pulled her hand back under the blanket. "I was eighteen when I first got off this rock."

She watched as Garrus situated himself beside her. His limbs were too long to sit comfortably on the ground as she was, but he tried his best. It was odd seeing him out of his armor, but he assured her that he had a full closet of things other than armor back home on the Citadel. "That's true," he murmured, "What kept you here, anyway?"

Calla shrugged, "Necessity, I suppose. I didn't have the money before I enlisted. And after I enlisted, they got me off of here as soon as they could. Traveling the galaxy isn't exactly the top of anyone's to-do list with my resume."

"Ah." Her eyebrows knitted. That was perhaps not the reply she was anticipating. They sat in relative silence for a moment, but that was cast aside sooner than later. "Do you have a favorite?"

Calla made a quiet sound of contemplation. A favorite star? A favorite constellation? She had many of them. "I have three major favorites," she finally answered him. "Scorpius is the first." Slipping the blanket off of her shoulders, she began to roll up her right sleeve. Garrus narrowed his eyes, watching as she revealed a tattoo. It was simple, comprised of fourteen small dots along the inside of her forearm. The constellation itself was unfamiliar.

"Why is it your favorite?" he asked, reaching out a hand to grab her wrist. Her eyes widened slightly. The feeling of his talons around her wrist was a surprise, but she didn't struggle. Instead, she let him inspect the tiny dots, ignoring the goosebumps that rose on her skin when he began connecting the small dots carefully.

"My astrological sign is Scorpio," she said, her voice oddly quiet. When he looked up at her, his mandibles flaring in question, she shook her head and gave a dismissive laugh. "A bunch of nonsense. Long story. It coincides with my birthday."

Gulping the knot in her throat, she looked down at her arm. "I have two more," she offered. Her attempt to free her arm was weak, but it worked. Garrus' curiosity over the two other tattoos overcame any desire to continue looking over the first. He let go of her, giving her the freedom to remove her boot. Pulling down the thick socks, she revealed the second tattoo. It was along the inside of her ankle. "Ursa Minor, also referred to as the Little Dipper."

"The Little Dipper… Interesting." Again, he reached forward, tracing the dots almost absently. Biting back a laugh, Calla's chin trembled. The sound was only muffled, and he looked up at her expectantly.

"Ticklish," she chuckled. Hardass soldier she was, and she was still ticklish. Who'd have thought?

"What is the story behind this one?"

"Well, the other one I have is Ursa Major - the Big Dipper. That one would, uh, require me taking my shirt off to get at." Her chuckle turned into a full on laugh when she saw his eyes widen a little. "Don't worry. I won't." Running a hand through her hair, she shrugged. "I've always liked the Dippers. I read into it a long time ago. Some people say Ursa Major and Minor represent Callisto and Arcas from Greek mythology - an ancient Earth culture. Callisto got pregnant by Zeus, the head honcho, and his wife got so pissed she turned her into a bear. Arcas was her son."

Garrus' eyes never left her face as he listened to her talk. In their short time of knowing each other, she'd come to realize that he hardly ever looked away. "Was he a _bear_ too?"

Calla gave a snort of laughter. "No, no, no." She sighed, "Jesus, I'm so bad at telling stories."

She felt the reassuring weight of his hand on her arm. "No, you don't. I'm just at a disadvantage."

"Oh." The word nearly caught in her throat. "Well, see, Arcas was Zeus' kid. Callisto had the child and _then_ Hera turned her into a bear. It wasn't until later, when Arcas was grown, that he nearly killed Callisto, thinking she was a bear - a big furry animal. Zeus intervened and put them right up there in the sky."

"That is… odd," Garrus chuckled.

"Welcome to Earth History 101. Odd's a good word to describe it."

They sat there again for a long time. Calla put her boot back on and busied herself with lacing it. Garrus merely sat there, head tilted back, eyes focused on the stars. She wondered if he'd ever been to Earth. He hadn't hinted at otherwise. Or perhaps he was savvy enough with the human species that he could navigate them easier than most.

After staring at the stars for a long time, Garrus turned his head to her. "I'd like to see your other tattoo."

Calla nearly choked, lifting a hand to her mouth to try to stifle her own nervous laughter. "What?" she asked, "Right now?" Her free hand clutched at the blanket pulled tight around her shoulders. "It's too cold."

"Just a peek? You've intrigued me. I want to see this Ursa Major."

His voice had taken on a deeper tone. The faint growling in his words brought a wave of heat to her cheeks. He was serious. He was really, truly serious. "Oh, fine," she grumbled, knocking the blanket off of her shoulders again. Her hands went to the hem of her shirt and she lifted it up just enough so he could see half of it.

The black dots, larger than the ones that made up both of the others, stood out against her pale skin. However, he wanted to see the whole thing. Garrus shifted so he was kneeling by her side, and he reached out that ever-curious hand.

Calla's eyes fell closed at the feeling of him lifting the fabric up even farther with the back of his talon. She obliged, bringing it up most of the way. Her bra was still concealed, but the entire tattoo was revealed. Seven large dots, all positioned along her rib, forming an easily noticeable "Big Dipper."

The hand that wasn't holding up her shirt was soon trailing a path between the fake stars. Her goosebumps seemed to grow goosebumps, and she let out a soft sound torn between pleasure and protestation. His own breath hitched, his hand slowing to a complete stop.

When she opened her eyes, he saw the confliction there. Too much was happening. It'd only been just over a month since they'd left Kaidan back on Virmire. He was well aware of how she felt about him, and all too conscious of how much she must've been hurting. If there was any semblance of empathy within him, and there was, it was not for their deceased friend. It was for her. The question that he most frequently asked himself in the past weeks was not how he could help her find Saren, but how he could comfort her. The stress, the grief - he could see it on her face.

But he could see something else. After Virmire, her eyes hardened. She was so set on finding the rogue Spectre. She would find him and kill him, and she would keep a brave face for anyone who needed to look upon one. That was not the case tonight. She was supple. Her eyes were liquid, and her smile was genuine.

She lifted a hand and rested it along his neck. "Garrus." Even the sound of his name on her lips seemed different. It sounded warmer, more intimate. The feeling of her fingers dancing with uncertainty along his throat pulled him even closer to her. He watched as her eyes drooped closed, and as she slowly began to drift closer.

Her entire body gave a noticeable shiver, pulling her just far enough away from him to yank her out of the moment.

"You're cold," he said. His voice was louder and more informal than he expected, and she hurriedly pulled down her shirt and gathered herself. She was standing up, blanket cocooned around her, before he could even get his bearings. "It's cold. We should go inside."

"Yeah," she murmured. "That's probably a good idea."

They stood there staring at each other for another long moment of silence before Calla tore her eyes away from him and began her trek back up to the house. When she entered, the warmth almost overpowered her. Draping the blanket over the back of the couch, she sat down next to Liara, who was still intrigued by what she was finding on Earth television.

"She just watched someone make bananas foster," Joker laughed.

The asari looked from Joker to Calla, her eyes wide with amusement. "I have never seen such a thing, Shepard. Your different ideas of entertainment are intriguing."

Shepard grinned, "They were making bananas foster, and I missed it? Ugh, great."

They all turned to look at Garrus as he settled down on the chair opposite Joker's. The two others quickly looked away, but Calla gave him a small, knowing smile. While it was not exactly a protestation of affection, it was enough.

"What exactly _is_ bananas foster, anyway?"


	2. An Honorary Turian

**A/N:** Before you read on, I want to issue a general SPOILER ALERT for this piece. Now that I'll be getting the game tomorrow (omg) and Garrus is a confirmed LI (double omg), this story is going to be rife with them. And yes, I've decided on making it more than one part! Sooo... if you're afraid of spoilers, do not venture on.

* * *

  
"You know my comments should always be taken with a grain of salt, Garrus."

He hadn't even heard her enter. How the woman could be so light on her feet, he had no idea, but it was like being stalked by a hanar. Considering he'd spent much of his time in recent months with an ear always out for any approaching hostiles, finally being able to relax was welcome, as was the sight of Calla leaning casually in the doorway, arms crossed over her chest.

It was odd seeing her with the Cerberus patch blazoned on her clothes, and the black and white clashed with the softer tones in her skin and hair. Still, she hadn't changed in the two years since he'd seen her. That was more of a relief than he'd like to admit.

"I was only curious," he replied, turning back towards his reflection. The scarring wasn't pretty. Doctor Chakwas, with the aid of Mordin, had done their best to make his wounds heal seamlessly, but it hadn't worked out as planned. After approaching the salarian, the doctor had conjured up a thick, dark blue substance that resembled the color of his markings. He'd spent the past hour trying to figure out how to work around the bandage around his mandible. After a bit of rummaging around and a shaky first attempt, he'd done nothing but stained the bandage.

"I spoke to Mordin. He said you'd asked him to make you some face paint." Calla paused, a smile twisting at the corner of her lips. "Well, in so many words."

Garrus gave a quiet chuckle. "He's big on talking, that's for sure. Where did you find him?"

Calla took a step into Garrus' quarters, lingering there as she felt the door slide closed behind her. "He was on Omega. Picked him up right before we went looking for you." There was a little hesitation in her voice as she moved over to where he was sitting. If she'd known that the turian called Archangel was none other than Garrus Vakarian, she'd have gone against the Illusive Man's suggestions in a second.

"Ah." Garrus dipped a talon into the paint, peering once again into the small hand mirror clutched in his other hand. He could feel her watching him as he passed a thin layer of paint over his cheeks, over the marred remnants of his former markings. When he realized she wasn't going anywhere, he looked up at her. "Is there something you wanted, Shepard?"

"You don't have any questions?" she asked, placing herself down on the bench beside him. "I know I have a whole hell of a lot of them. I figured you'd have more. Maybe some I could even answer."

Garrus let his hand fall from his face and balanced his arm across his knee. "It'll take some getting used to," he said slowly, each word touched by the warm vibrations she'd grown so accustomed to. Turning, he looked at her. His left mandible twitched in thought. The other remained still. "You're… alive." He released a short breath, shaking his head and looking away. "I still don't believe it."

Biting down on her bottom lip, Calla reached out. Her hand settled on his forearm, brushing against the much softer fabric of his casual uniform. She didn't know what to say. Hell, she couldn't believe that she was alive either. Not after what happened…

They sat there for a moment. Garrus didn't look at her. Instead, he stared at her hand resting on his arm. She was right there. And she looked just like she had. She smelled just like she had. Sounded and felt just like she had.

But he'd grieved. He'd grieved and moved on, accepted her death. How do you erase that and start over?

Noticing the sudden tautness in his frame, Calla tried her best to intervene. Her hand left his arm and she dipped her index finger into the paint. She peered at it curiously, smearing the blue substance between her finger and thumb. "Mordin did an excellent job matching the color," she murmured. "Who knew he was into arts and crafts, too?" A feeble attempt, but she felt a rising sense of accomplishment in her chest when she heard him chuckle.

"I've always wondered that about humans…" Garrus began, taking hold of the new topic and running with it. "Your culture doesn't seem to have markings. How do you identify where you're from? Distinguish one person from the other?"

"Hmm… that's a good question." Calla snatched the mirror out of Garrus' hand. She peered into her own reflection as she considered the question, her index trailing a line of blue from between her brows to the tip of her nose. "Some you can recognize by their accents. Others, you have to rely on just asking them." She glanced away from the mirror to look at Garrus. "And some of us do have markings, if you remember."

Garrus chuckled. "Scorpius."

Calla glanced down at the tattoo on her forearm, smiling to herself. It was only half-visible due to her rolled up sleeves, but most of it was still poking out, pitch black against the pinkish hue of her skin. "And…"

"The… Dippers, right?" he asked, glancing up from her arm to measure the look in her eyes. Had he gotten it correct? Had his memory not failed him? When a smile spread across her lips, he heaved a short sigh.

"You have quite the memory."

"Well, you're quite memorable, you know," he murmured, dipping a talon into the paint. He turned towards her, gently removing the mirror from her hands and placing it on the bench behind him. "Here, let me help you. You're making a mess of it."

She gave a short bark of laughter. "Oh come on, I wasn't doing _that _badly."

His lips twitched, but he didn't smile. Instead, he took a firm, yet careful hold of her chin, tilting it upwards so he could see her face in the proper light. Most humans didn't appeal to him. They were a short-lived species, and they almost always translated as racist and self-serving. But Shepard was different.

While they'd worked together to stop Saren, he'd gotten to know her better than any human that'd come before her. He saw her stand up against Terra Firma. He watched as she knocked a reporter on her ass for slander. He overheard her comments to Ashley Williams, dead set on convincing the younger woman that having aliens aboard the Normandy was for the better. But she wasn't just some woman interested in the unknown. She was quick to anger, yes, but she had a heart. A big one.

And she was clearly oblivious to his own racing thoughts. An eyebrow lifted into her forehead, she cocked her head slightly to the side. "You're just staring at me," she said, "Am I going to get my honorary turian markings or what?"

Garrus cleared his throat. "Sorry, uhm… Where do you want them?"

"Get creative."

"I'm not really a creative person, Shepard," he murmured. "I do better when I have precise instructions."

She narrowed her eyes at him, her voice deepening. "Just do whatever. Make it look nice."

"Well." Garrus cleared his throat, adjusting his position on the bench to take advantage of a better angle. "I do work well under pressure, I suppose. Though that depends on the job." As he spoke, he watched Calla shut her eyes. She enjoyed the feeling of the back of his talon moving along the skin of her cheek. The face paint left an oddly soothing sensation where his touch left nothing but fire. "For instance, taking out mercs is easy work. But this? This is incredibly stressful."

She said nothing. She just enjoyed the sound of his voice, the feeling of the paint on each new patch of skin. "Just don't move. I don't want to cut you, and I'm working very close to your eye." He felt her tense, and he laughed, grunting at the pain that shot across his face.

"You don't move either!" she yelped, lifting a hand to his arm to steady it. "You'll take my eye out if you're not careful."

"I won't," he replied in a much softer, almost comforting tone. There was still a hint of laughter in his voice, and she scowled. After a moment of silence, he withdrew his talon from her face and handed her the mirror. "You won't like them. They're not very good. That's what I get for trying to be… creative."

Calla shrugged off his comments, taking the mirror willingly before looking at herself. They were a lot like his, but they looked different on her skin. The lines on her cheeks were bent across her cheekbones, branching up to her temples. Two streaks of blue ran over her right eye, one connected to the thin line along the bridge of her nose. "What do you think?"

"What do I think?" he asked, taken aback by her question when he'd been anxiously waiting for her opinion. "I think they're okay."

"Just okay?"

_Damnit_, he thought to himself. "They look nice on you. I'm sure they'd look better if someone else did them."

"I like them," she grinned, looking the markings over again. Lifting a hand to her cheek, her fingers ran a hovered trail along them - from cheek, to nose, to brow, and then to cheek again. She'd always taken a turian's facial markings into account. Lorik Qui'in's were particularly memorable. Maybe humanity would have more of a sense of home if they borrowed a tradition or two.

"That's good." He pulled himself up from the bench and turned to his console, glancing over his shoulder at her. "Mordin said to watch where I put it because it stains." He could see the color drain from her cheeks, and he stared innocently at her as the mirror drooped down into her lap. Sincere worry clouded her features. Before he was able to deny that it was a lie, he'd already caved, "It was a joke, Shepard." His left mandible flared. "And quite a funny one at that. If you could've seen the look on your face…"

Calla stood up from the bench, shoving the mirror into Garrus' hands with a mock scowl. "You're bad," she laughed despite herself. "No teasing the commander."

Without giving her the chance to get in another word, he'd snatched her wrist in his hand and pulled her toward him. She stumbled slightly before she felt herself braced against him, her chest pressed against his. Her breath hitched in her throat as she felt a talon on her cheek. He drew it from one end of the line to the other.

"It was… uneven."

She let out a quiet breath. "Oh."

She only realized his hand was still curled around her wrist when she felt the distantly familiar sensation of a talon drawn across the delicate inside skin of her forearm.

From where they both stood, on a purely physical level, the moment was shared.

To Calla, the tingling and the goosebumps were both recent memories from an occurrence not more than a few months prior. She could still feel the chill, the dew. She could still see the stars. She remembered Liara's amusement, Joker's teasing. Even Garrus' curiosity as he explored her own markings was fresh. The steadiness of his hands, the light in his eyes.

But to Garrus, the memories were faded to black and white. It felt like so long ago, even longer than the two years since he'd last seen her. He didn't remember the conversation. He couldn't recall if it was Liara who'd been there or Ashley. Didn't Joker have someone he wanted to meet at the time? After all those long months, he'd pushed this back, deep into his subconscious, in an attempt to forget about her.

"Shepard, I-"

"Garrus," she interrupted, her cheeks darkening. Her eyes fell from his own to a single spot on his chest, focusing on that instead. "I'm sorry. What did you want to say?"

He withdrew his hand and took a step back, leaving her to adjust her posture accordingly. She felt awkward. The differences between what they were feeling was almost palpable, and it left a thickness in the air. Pulling absently at her collar, she shifted her weight on her feet. When he didn't reply, she gave him a look that he didn't fully understand. There was something she wanted to say, but there was also something she wanted him to say.

"Nevermind. I should go."

Before he could protest, she was already gone. He turned to his omni-board before wiping the back of his talon on his pants. This wasn't going to work. Something was going to go wrong again. It always did.


	3. Distance

Shepard's favorite place on the SR2 was the starboard observation deck.

Garrus didn't even have to ask her or the AI on board to figure out where Calla spent her free time on the Normandy. It was the perfect vantage point, especially for someone so keenly interested in the stars. It was away from most of the noise, and, if she chose, away from the entire crew. A shut door didn't stop him, though.

"Have you seen anything interesting?"

His voice rang out in the quiet of the room. He lingered near the door, watching her back for any sign of response. She was sitting near the window, shoulders pulled back and eyes facing straight ahead. "Depends on your definition of interesting," she replied, her voice quiet. She heard the door slide shut behind him as well as his footsteps as he moved up behind her.

Though she loved spending time with him, her hours spent in here were to keep her sane, her mind sharp and her heart calm. They helped her stay centered. Any contemplation wasn't done in her cabin, but sitting as close to the glass as possible to get the best view of what lie outside. If anything was going to muddy that up, it was him. Her vocal open door policy was going to bite her in the ass one of these days.

When he didn't answer, she glanced over her shoulder. He was standing to her left, hands clasped behind his back. "Did you want to talk? Or are you really interested in what's out there?"

His face dropped as he looked down at her. Their eyes locked for no more than a moment before he looked away, turning his gaze towards the window as he settled down on the seat next to her. "There's a lot out there. Too much to not be interested in it." He laced his talons between his knees, looking from the window to her and back again. "And most of it's trying to kill us. I'd say that spurs interest by any definition."

"Not gonna let some insects scare you off, are you, Garrus?" she chuckled, nudging his side with a careful elbow. He was healing very well, but she was still worried about hurting him. He hated it, but whatever.

"It's not me I'm worried about. They're not going after turians."

His tone was light. It contradicted a deeply felt concern. She knew that voice. In between conversations about C-Sec and all that red tape, she caught snippets about the danger they were facing. All of them were tainted with that same sound of worry. At first, she ignored it, but that was his way. Bitch and moan about not being able to sink his teeth into criminals personally and then fuss over the crew - her in particular - when they were hurt or encountered a close call.

Calla pulled her legs up onto the seat, crossing them. He was right. They were going after humans. They were on their way to Horizon after being tipped off on Collector activity in the settlement. "Mordin's fixed us up, though. Damn things won't get their claws on my team." She said this with a hint of a vicious smile, and Garrus chuckled.

"You're terrifying. Did I ever tell you that?" His hands shot up in submission when she glared at him. Her eyes shined despite their dramatic narrowing, and the smile melted into something softer. "See? You could kill someone with that look."

"Don't make me try it out on you," she murmured, an eyebrow tilting upwards. Looking away from him, she peered out of the window and at the stars. A silence fell over them both. She could see Garrus out of the corner of her eye, shifting every once in a while, adjusting his armor, running his talons over his thighs, trying his hardest to actually not disturb her. It was cute.

Being out here again was wonderful. The constant running and gunning was a downside, but she was used to it by now. There wasn't a mission in sight that would see a holstered hand cannon. With Garrus back by her side and Zaeed chomping at the bit to get a little blood on his hands, she felt like this was exactly how it should be. Granted, the whole "suicide mission" tag was putting a damper on her optimism.

Beside her, Garrus gave a quiet sigh. The near silence of the room intensified each sound he made. One thing she missed most about being in close quarters with Vakarian was the subtle rumbling in his throat when he sighed.

That little nugget of memory was thrust aside when she heard him speak. His words were hardly above a whisper, but she heard them loud and clear, something he hadn't entirely expected. "I missed you, Shepard." She knew Garrus was more candid than he had been before, but this was another level entirely.

Calla looked to him, and he looked right back at her. She could tell that he hadn't meant to say that out loud. There was a thin mask of surprise on his face. That wouldn't make him take it back, though. Nothing can take back the truth.

"I missed you, too, Garrus. As much as that means."

"It means a lot," he said, his admittance twisted by a self-depreciating chuckle. Inside, he was kicking himself for saying it. She probably wouldn't catch it. Or she probably wouldn't care. Or, worst came to worst, she'd get up and leave. He narrowed his eyes out of the window as he waited for her to reply. For a while, he didn't think she would.

Eventually, he felt his hand being lifted from his thigh. He tore his eyes away from the star-flecked sky and looked down only to see five pale fingers sliding into his three talons. "I'm… sorry," she murmured, placing her other hand on top of his. He shut his eyes. "I would've come for you sooner if I knew. Or contacted you. Or something."

"I was lucky that you came for me before heading off to Purgatory. I would have gotten roasted if you hadn't been there," Garrus replied in a vain attempt to divert the conversation to something more humorous. Not that he found the subject matter particularly funny. "You were just in time."

"Aren't I always?" Calla laughed, running her fingers absently along the back of his hand. "I mean, dead for two years and I just so happen to wake up when you're in trouble? Some people would call that fate, Mr. Vakarian."

Garrus chuckled again, "I would call it luck." He paused, shaking his head. "With your track record, I shouldn't have been surprised that out of everyone on Omega you'd be the one hauling my ass out of trouble. Nevermind I thought you were dead." They shared a small smile. "I thought I was seeing things when you hopped over that barricade. Figured it was fatigue. Then you started gunning down mercs, and I knew it was you. You make for a mighty fine dream sequence, though."

Nudging him again with her elbow, her smile widened. "Dreaming about me is no good when you're being shot at," she teased. "You should work on that."

"Oh, should I?" he asked, tilting away from her so he could get a better look at her face. "Some women would be flattered, you know. Especially since I thought it was one of those 'seeing a vision of beauty before a bullet tears into your forehead' sorts of dreams."

Calla gave a snort of laughter at that. "Yeah, uh huh, right."

"I was serious!"

"I'm sure your subconscious could come up with someone a lot better than me for that sort of thing," she mused. "I mean, I was in Afterlife. I've seen those dancers."

Garrus was starting to feel increasingly uncomfortable. How could he make his opinions known without just saying it? I'm attracted to you, Shepard. I have been since the first time you swaggered up to me in the Citadel tower. And shut up, those dancers don't hold a torch to you. That wasn't exactly subtle, and he always feared how she'd react to such a thing. Humans and turians weren't on the best of terms, even now. He knew Shepard was different. She wasn't your average Terra Firma supporting, close-minded Earthborn citizen. And she had nearly kissed him that one time, though that felt like a millennia ago.

Still, he didn't want to ruin what they had. What did they have? Were they still just friends? After all this time, were they still supposed to just rely on minor flirtation that never led anywhere in particular? He couldn't let his feelings endanger the mission. He didn't want to distract her. But she was just so difficult to ignore. While he was selfless for the most part, he had needs. He couldn't help but realize how perfectly she'd fit them in any other circumstance.

He was the guy who'd spent the last two years focusing solely on his work again in a vain attempt to mask his own grief. When he finally accepted the fact that Shepard was gone and not coming back, he was so deep in his own trouble that he didn't have time to move any farther on. And then she had come back. Guns blazing, like he'd ever expected anything different from the woman who saved the galaxy's ass.

"I don't know about that, Shepard." She looked back at him, quirking a brow. He chuckled and brought a hand to his neck, massaging the admittedly quite tense muscles there. "You'd look nice in those outfits."

Calla gave a bark of laughter, "Hah! Yeah right, tough guy. Never in a million years."

It was so good to see her smile again, to hear her laugh and that particular lilt that rose in her voice when she was being sarcastic. Frankly, there was nothing about her that he hadn't missed in a big way. At first, part of him was angry at her. When she'd shown up out of nowhere, after being such a chip on his shoulder for so long, she'd been so blasé about everything. It wasn't until later that she apologized to him. After the hell he'd been through, his resentment didn't last long. He was just happy to have her back.

"It was just a suggestion."

Calla's smile faded a little at the sound of his voice. Serious and much lower, it rumbled in his chest, and it sent a wave of unbidden warmth over her skin. "Well, we'll see if the Illusive Man can vouch for a little vinyl, yeah? He spent billions reconstructing me. Might as well put clothes on my back, too. Not that they'd be on for long." Biting down on the inside of her cheek, she forced herself to stop talking. She hated it when that happened, when she lost control of her tongue and it just kept wagging without any sense coming off of it. "Though he may want video."

"I can manage video," Garrus murmured, though he clearly wasn't pleased with the subject matter. He didn't like the Illusive Man. The idea of the guy and Shepard lit a fire in some desolate corner of his brain. Not that he'd admit that in a million years.

"Oh, yeah?" Calla turned slightly on the seat, hands slipping out from around his. "You always did strike me as a voyeur. All that time spent looking through a scope and all." He didn't know what to do. Any mocking remarks idled on his tongue the second her voice dipped below its usual volume. As her words got throatier, he grew more and more aware of the hand resting lightly on his thigh.

Garrus coughed. "Not a voyeur, not really." He glanced down at her hand and then up to her face. "Just open minded, I suppose."

He could tell by the look in her eyes and the way her lids seemed heavier than before what she had in mind. Her subtle drifting forward was another hint, as was the location of her other hand. It rested lightly on the back of his neck, her fingers nothing more than a whisper against his skin. They were mere inched apart when the room was suddenly illuminated by a pale blue glow.

Calla jerked backwards involuntarily.

EDI's vaguely robotic voice filled the room. "Commander Shepard, Mr. Moreau has begun the approach to Horizon. He suggests you assemble your ground team. ETA 5 minutes."

"Thank you, EDI," was Shepard's curt reply before she hoisted herself up off of the seat. When the AI blinked out of sight, she extended a hand to Garrus, who took it after a second's contemplation. He hated that damn AI almost as much as he hated watching her pull away from him like that for the third time. It certainly wasn't doing his confidence any favors. However, her slightly lopsided smile and the returning brightness in her voice did. "You're coming with me."


	4. Lost You

None of them were ready for what they found.

The buildings that made up Horizon were virtually untouched save the stray scarring from one weapon or another. But it was the quiet that made her uneasy, a quiet that Jack commented on flippantly despite the clawing at all their bellies. Garrus scouted out ahead as Shepard picked her way through any of the available data they spotted on their way in. Files were perfectly in order. Data pads showed lists of imports and exports - nothing suspicious. Coffee cups sat unattended on tables. Everything was as if they'd just… disappeared.

What had she expected? She'd seen what the Collectors did to Freedom's Progress. Everyone was gone. At least this time there was a few signs of a struggle. Her heart felt like it was twisted up in itself as she remembered what the Illusive Man told her. Ashley was here. Goddamnit, Williams. She couldn't stay out of trouble if her life depended on it.

Shepard lifted a hand to her forehead, rubbing the wrinkles formed in her skin from concern. Now was not the time. Ashley was alive. She'd seen herself through trouble far worse than this. Being stationed on some colony wasn't going to make her soft.

She heard a faint crackle in her ears. "Garrus?" she asked, "Garrus? What's wrong? Have you found someone?"

"Sort of…"

"Clarify, Vakarian," she spat, tossing the data pad onto the table where she'd found it. Jack had her shotgun poised out of the window, her eyes scanning outside of the building for anything that moved. The damn seeker swarms were a menace, but she leaned to ignore their buzzing for the most part.

The speakers built into her helmet fizzled to life again. "Sorry, commander." Shaking her head, she paced deeper into the building before turning around and pacing back again. "You should see this. I found the colonists."

"Jack!" The biotic twisted around, her shotgun clutched and ready in her arms. Calla gave the signal to leave out the door they'd come through and they both left as quickly as they could. With the seeker swarms overhead, she could hardly hear the turian's ragged breathing in her ear. Pressing a hand to the side of her helmet, she jumped down the final two steps and onto the ground outside. "Location?" When he didn't answer, she murmured a curse under her breath. "Garrus! Location!"

That was when she heard it. It didn't sound like any weapon she'd ever heard on the ground. It was metallic and much more than a simple gunshot. Something like that sounded like it was coming from a ship, not a rifle. Before she knew it, her heart willed her legs to run. The impact of her heavy feet on the ground kicked up dirt and dust, and Jack had to fight to catch up to her. Adrenaline surged through her veins as she tore around buildings, vaulting over crates, desperate to get to where he was as soon as she could. She drew her shotgun. It slid into place in her hand and she thrust in a heat sink. "Garrus! God damnit, what is your location!"

Just as she rounded a corner, she saw the turian diving into cover. Her sight was filled with a bright yellow-white light and tailed by that same, piercing sound.

"What the hell is that!?" Jack's surprise mirrored her own, but she didn't have time enough to reply. The Collector shifted its aim and she had no more than a second to drop behind the crate at her side.

"Garrus, do you read me?" Calla asked in between gasps of air. She shifted on the ground, popping her head out of cover for just long enough to get a look at the battlefield. Three of them were hugging cover. Two had what she assumed were normal guns, but one of them had that blasted rifle. Was it a rifle? Hell if she knew.

She also saw Garrus some ways up, sniper rifle clutched in his arms as he caught his breath. "I read you, commander. I take it you don't know what that is."

"It's shooting lasers at us. That's all I need to know!" Pressing her head against the crates, she shut her eyes. Her breathing was returning to normal, but it was still ragged. Her throat burned. Her elbow ached where she'd jammed it on the ground when she dropped. This always happened to her. Always. "Jack and I will take care of the grunts. That'll distract the one with the gun. Will that give you enough time to line up a shot?"

The short silence that followed felt like an eternity as Garrus calculated the odds. He could do that. While the process was no doubt fascinating, she had bigger, uglier things to take care of. "That could work, commander."

"It damn well better work." She turned and looked at Jack, who peered out from behind the corner. The young woman pulsed with a faint blue light, as if to tell Shepard, 'I'm ready when you are.' "The one on the left is yours. Hit it with whatever you've got. I have the one on the right."

"Gotcha." Jack leapt out from cover just as Calla vaulted over the crate. Shepard landed on the ground in a puff of dirt before extending the arm not cradling her weapon. A streak of blue blazed over the grass before impacting the insectoid and sending it flying. The other flew forward, pulled indelicately over the crate with nothing but a swift flick of the biotic's wrist.

The collector that stood between them launched into action, its attention torn between the two attackers. It was distracted, but not distracted enough. The energy beam blasted through the air, tearing through Calla's shields before she was able to fall into place beside Garrus.

Jack let out a bloodthirsty scream as she jumped onto the crate shielding Garrus and Shepard from the beam. Before the collector had enough time to gather its focus, it caught sight of the young woman jumping to the next crate. She seemed to float in midair as time slowed down - her face distorted with the scream. It didn't have time to shoot her before it was slammed into the ground by a massive shockwave.

They heard it crunch as the power forced it down as far as it could.

Shepard growled at the pain in her shoulder, removing her helmet so she could get a better look at the damage the beam had caused. The plate was completely blown off, leaving nothing but melted underarmor and the smell of cauterized flesh. "Damnit," she cursed, fumbling to try and situate the armor so there would be some coverage.

Her sight was filled with the orange glow of an omni-tool as Garrus ran it over the wound. "Here, let me get that for you."

"No," Calla stated firmly before thrusting his arm out of the way. "Save it." Pulling herself up in a standing position, she grabbed for her helmet and put it on. Her muscles felt like they were swimming in adrenaline, but it was slowly wearing off. Eventually she'd feel nothing but the pain.

She'd already begun walking away when she heard him behind her. "Shepard, let me fix it."

Turning on her heel, she let her shotgun fall to her side. She was tired of this. She could save someone a thousand times, but almost losing someone again was beyond her comprehension. After leaving Kaidan behind on Virmire, she'd promised herself that she'd watch herself. No getting close, no fraternization - it only led to that person being turned into radioactive dust. "I said save it." She didn't notice Jack's arched eyebrow, nor did she notice Garrus' expression of surprise. Nothing mattered now but the mission. They had to find Ashley. "Now where are the colonists you said you found?"

--

"What was that about, Shepard?" Garrus fell into stride with her as she left the comm room. He'd been waiting outside of it for the entire meeting. His own wounds were paltry and they could wait. He had to talk to her first. Why had she pulled something like that out on a mission? He knew there was a lot on her mind, but he didn't recall provoking that sort of response. "We had enough medigel to last. You were hurt. It could have been fixed easily."

Shepard ignored him as she made her way down to the medical bay. Maybe Chakwas would keep him out of her hair. She didn't have enough words for him right now. At least, not the ones she knew he wanted to hear. They were all jumbled up on the back of her tongue, twisted and tied so tightly that she couldn't unravel them. Not yet.

The turian heaved an exasperated sigh. "Shepard, stop ignoring me." When she didn't reply, he reached out and grabbed her by the arm. She let out a hiss of pain, and he let go as if he'd touched something hot. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to -"

His words fell into silence as she turned and looked up at him. Her blue eyes were filled with something he remembered. She was on the edge of something, and it scared her. He'd seen that exact look when she'd looked to him for some sort of response after watching the geth dropship land where Kaidan was planting the nuke. There were no tears. There was only confusion.

She seemed so much smaller with that look in her eyes, like she wasn't the notorious commander, the galaxy's go-to soldier for saving everyone's collective asses. He watched as she looked him over, skimming over his scarred armor for signs of weakness. She caught the tear near his hip as well as a spreading splotch of blue on the bandage over the side of his face.

A lot of people saw her as selfless, something of an angel, but they didn't know the truth. She was as selfish as they came. Garrus still wasn't in top shape. That didn't stop her from dragging him out there. Why? Because she needed him at her back. Not because he wanted to or because he offered, but because she needed him there. She hated herself for it.

When she spoke, her voice was soft. "You should see Chakwas, too."

"This? It's nothing."

Calla chuckled, shaking her head at him before turning away and finding her way down the hall to the medical bay. As expected, Chakwas fixed her up in no time, and she even ducked out of her own workspace for a while afterwards to give the two of them some privacy. None of them deserved that woman, but she stayed there regardless.

Shepard sat on the examination table, legs dangling off the side and shoulders slumped forward as she inspected the bandage on one of them. She'd be all fixed up before three days ran into nothing. Garrus was the luckier of the two and was given a clean bill of health after the good doctor clucked her tongue at him for showing up with such small time wounds.

"I really would like an explanation," she heard from behind her. Garrus moved around the table and stood beside it. "I understand if you don't want to give one, but I'd like to know what happened."

She let her hand droop from the bandage to her lap, twisting her neck to look up at him. "You could've gotten yourself killed out there. We didn't know what we were facing. We weren't ready." Shepard straightened out her back before scrubbing both hands over her face. She couldn't get that sense of dread off of herself. That feeling she'd gotten when he'd dropped out of contact coated the lining of her stomach. The sound of that weapon rang in her ears. "I just sent you out there like an idiot. I should've kept you right there with me. You should've been where I could see you." She hated the sound of her own voice when she started rambling, but she couldn't stop. "Hell, you should've been on the Normandy. You're not ready for that kind of action."

He looked at her intently while her words ran off into nothing. When she was finally quiet, he reached out a hand and rested it on her good shoulder. "I'm fine, Shepard. I'm ready for whatever those bastards can throw at me. You're overreacting."

"Overreacting?" her voice rose sharply, and she slid down from the table, knocking his hand off of her shoulder in the process. "You almost died on Omega, Garrus. Do you have any idea how it felt hearing Zaeed say, 'He's not going to make it?' as we waited for someone to pick us up?"

"Yes, Shepard. I do know how that feels." His answer stunned her. He watched as her mouth opened and shut, opened and shut, no words coming. "I watched as the pods opened and everyone got out. I saw Tali and I saw Liara and Ashley and Wrex. Everyone was there. Everyone but you." He hated opening up old wounds, but these were split the second he saw her again. It was only a matter of time before they were vocalized. "I actually lost you."

A knot formed in his throat as he saw her eyes water. He didn't want this. He didn't want to say this or to feel this. He'd dealt with this for the past two years. He didn't need to feel it again. "So, honestly, I don't care if you think I'm not ready to fight. I'm going to."

"Garrus, I -"

"I don't need your explanations, Shepard. You don't understand. I wouldn't either. Things have happened that neither of us can change." Calla opened her mouth again to speak, but he cut her off. "I'm here because I want to see those collectors pay. And I'm here because you asked me to be here. If you don't think I'm fit, let me go."

"Damnit, stop interrupting me," Shepard pressed, blinking back the tears that blurred her vision. "I'm pissed because I thought I'd screwed up and gotten you killed, and you think I'm going to let you off of this ship? Did you hit your head a lot in the past couple of years?"

Garrus blinked at her, his left mandible flaring in curiosity. So this was Calla Shepard after all, remedying such a serious conversation with her poor attempt at humor. "If I'm staying, you can't do this anymore. You'll jeopardize the mission."

He hadn't realized it, but as he spoke, he settled his hand along the slope of her neck, talons dipping into strands of dark red hair. She could feel her heart slow and then speed up as she stood there, no more than a foot away from him. "It was stupid," she whispered, moving her eyes away from his in an attempt to regain some of her composure. "I got so wrapped up in what was happening. Being constantly out of my own depth is catching up with me."

"It's fine, Shepard. You're shouldering a lot of weight here. I just wish you'd talk to me."

Calla blinked up at him before nodding, "I will. There's a lot to do, but once everything slows down for a moment … we'll talk."

Leaning forward, Garrus gave her forehead an affectionate nuzzle, his talons curled deeper into her hair. She held her hands against his chest, pressed just above his heart. "I don't want to lose you again either, Calla." She didn't have anything to say. Instead, she let herself melt into his arms. There, she felt safe. Even if this moment wasn't going to last forever and there were even taller hurdles to face in the near future, she now knew she had somewhere to go when she needed to catch her breath.


	5. A Trap

While the Collector ship sat outside of the Normandy, too quiet and too still, Garrus stood right behind Joker - hands clasped behind his back, eyes forward, quiet, still. The ship was massive and it took up the entire forward view. This was the ship they'd encountered on Horizon. He could see the scoring on its side. But had they gotten it good enough?

"Are you gonna stand there the whole time they're gone?"

Garrus glanced down at Joker, who was twisted in his seat and staring up at him from beneath the bill of his hat. The ship's pilot didn't normally bother him. He was sarcastic and even a little bit cold, but he and Calla were close. For this alone, he gave the brassy human the benefit of the doubt. "Because if you are, do something useful. Or sit down. You're creeping me the hell out."

"Don't be so mean, Joker," they both heard from behind them. They turned to see Yeoman Chambers standing there, arms curled around a data pad. "You'd be worried, too…," she paused, moving up to stand beside Garrus. "If you had a heart."

"Hey, I have a heart. Just because it doesn't bleed all over the place like you two -"

"Human heart a very complicated organ, but does not bleed. Unless shot. Then it bleeds." Mordin gave Kelly a cordial smile as he stepped in between her and the turian. The yeoman smiled right back. "And then you die."

Joker's head sunk into his hands. "Oh, Jesus."

"We're just _concerned_, Joker," Kelly pressed, leaning her chin on the data pad she still hugged to her chest. "The commander's over there with just Grunt and Miranda. Who knows what's going to happen with those two. And who knows if this ship's even empty?"

"No life signs were detected after the initial sweep," EDI chimed in, her blue glow emanating throughout the room. "Commander Shepard should find nothing to hinder the mission."

Garrus uttered a quiet grunt. All these people in the cockpit was starting to wear on his nerves, even more than it was bothering Joker. He just wanted to keep his eye on the ship. He didn't need this to turn into squad mate bonding time. "_Should. _I know Shepard. If there's even a small chance of trouble, it's going to jump out at her. That's just how she operates."

"Heard from Shepard recently?" Mordin asked. "Should keep in close contact. Just in case."

Joker lifted his hands up in mock submission before letting go of one long suffering sigh. "I've been trying to, but now I have the whole damn ship in my cockpit and can't say anything to her without it sounding like we're on a conference call."

"Alright, alright," Kelly muttered. "Jeez. I'm going."

"Will go, as well. Important matters to attend to. Cytokinesis." He took in a deep breath. "Much more interesting than empty Collector ship."

When the others had gone, Joker turned in his chair again, green eyes narrowed up at the turian. Garrus's only response was a quiet glare, punctuated by crossing his arms over his chest. He wasn't going anywhere, and that sentiment was obvious from his stance. "Fine, whatever, just shut up when I'm talking to the commander."

They could hear Grunt and Miranda conversing among each other. One pointed out a control panel, the one they would use to transfer the data to EDI. The other wondered aloud why they hadn't seen any collectors - living or dead. Those sorts of thoughts were what worried Garrus. He had a terrible feeling in his gut. Something was going to go wrong. There was something at work here that none of them were expecting. Or, at least, had a true reason to believe was going to happen. If he voiced his concern, he'd be mocked. Call off the mission everyone, Garrus has a "bad feeling" about it.

No more than a minute later, a familiar voice came through over the speaker.

"EDI, I'm setting up a bridge between you and the Collector ship."

The AI began to glow as the connection was made, and both Joker and Garrus watched it carefully, eyes focused but ears tuned in to what Shepard was saying. "See if you can get anything useful from the databanks."

Joker turned to his omni-board and began his part of the deal. While Garrus knew his tech, piloting was beyond him. He watched as the pilot's hands moved like water over the orange board, carefully and quickly finishing the task he knew he had to complete. Columns of data popped up before both of them. White words streamed across the screen. He couldn't understand any of it, but that wasn't the point. All of the information was funneling right into EDI.

"Data mining in progress, Shepard."

And then suddenly, one of the screens went blank. The cutting out was followed by nothing but white and lilac fuzz. Then another blinked out. Fuzz. Then another, another. Eventually, they were left staring at nothing. Dread lurched in the pilot's stomach, and Garrus moved forward quickly, talon grasping Joker's seat.

There was a sizzle and a pop, and their attention was diverted. Diverted directly towards a red holographic representation of the Collector general. It hovered there for no more than a moment before that, too, blinked out of existence.

"Uh… that can't be good."

The comm crackled, but when they heard Shepard's voice, it was loud and clear. Much to their dismay, as the woman's shouting took them unaware. "What the hell just happened!?"

Joker adjusted himself in his seat, hands frantically working the omni-board in front of him to try and conjure up a status report. "Major power surge," he said, "Everything went dark, but we're back up now."

He'd never been so happy to see EDI. "I managed to divert the majority of the overload to non-critical systems." This was good news, and Garrus felt his nerves ease. Just a bit. But that sense of relief was gone in another second when the AI continued, "Shepard, it was not a malfunction. This was a trap."

"What's happening?" he heard himself asking before his mind could fully catch up to what he'd heard. His voice was quiet, hardly more than a whisper. He didn't want to interrupt communications with the commander. "What's going on?"

Joker angrily waved him off, like he was nothing more than an annoying insect that just wouldn't go away. "Pay a-goddamn-ttention and you might know," the pilot shot back. He, too, kept himself quiet. A first time for everything.

"We need a little help here, EDI." They could hear a tremor in Calla's voice. That was enough for Garrus to really understand how the situation had turned.

"I am having trouble maintaining connection," EDI replied. Her tone was slightly concerned, a sign of her status as an AI. Emotional inflection heightened the experience, though all of them would've preferred something that would ease their nerves right now, not make them worse. "There is someone else in the system."

Joker's eyes went wide. "What!?" he yelped, his attentions taking a direct turn towards his omni-board. Maybe he'd find a straight answer there. Maybe he could figure out what the hell was going on instead of playing 20 questions with the damn AI. "Come on, come on, come on," he murmured to himself as his fingers poked at this and dragged that all over the board. How could she have the answers, but he's stuck sitting there with his thumb up his ass?

EDI's blue light blinked red for a moment, and Garrus felt his heart slow to an almost complete stop. He took in a sharp breath when she swiftly returned to her natural blue hue. "Connection reestablished," she announced. "I need to finish the download before I can override any systems."

They could hear Calla murmuring quiet curses to herself. Though they sounded tame, the string of words that left her lips could make a grown man blush. Grunt shouted something they could hardly hear in the background. Knowing the krogan, either he'd found something to eat or kill. Or both.

"Then you'd better get it done fast, EDI," Shepard stated. Her voice cut out with the sound of a heat sink being thrust into a gun. There was a whining sound in the background, a sound none of them recognized. Then communications were cut. Manually.

"I'll keep an ear and an eye on Shepard," Joker told Garrus over his shoulder. "EDI, what's the situation?"

The AI did not respond at first, and the pilot bit back the urge to slam his fist down onto the console. Who knew how many bones he'd break if he gave in to that desire. "The Collector ship is attempting to gain access to the Normandy. I am currently tasked to capacity."

"Goddamnit, EDI! What's the situation? Is there something I can do?"

"No, there is not."

Joker groaned inwardly. He couldn't keep himself from fidgeting in his seat. If there was one thing he hated the most, it was having to sit back and watch events unfold right in front of his eyes without so much as a say in what happened. Out of desperation for some sort of information, Joker regained the link to Shepard.

All they could hear was the sound of her shotgun at first. At first. As the heat sink reached the end of its use, the sound quieted only to be trailed by something that made a mess of Garrus's nerves. He heard the rifle - that shrill, piercing sound he'd heart back on Horizon. That weapon almost sliced him in two. But once that was silenced with a well-timed concussive shot from the krogan, another sound filled the cockpit.

"Damnit, Miranda! Come on. Get up. _Get up_."

Garrus' talons dug into the leather seat. If she didn't hug cover, she was going to be killed. Right there in the Collector ship, all because of some damn trap. He couldn't even remember the last thing he said to her.

The fight wore on for what felt like hours, while it was no more than a few minutes. Before long, Shepard had wiped out a dozen Collectors and was now standing in front of the console, ready for EDI's instructions. Miranda was back on her feet after a hearty application of medigel. Everything was okay for the moment.

"I have regained control of the platform, Shepard," EDI announced. Was that a hint of pride in her voice? Ridiculous.

"I knew you wouldn't let us down, EDI."

"I always work at optimal capacity."

Joker settled back into his chair, taking this time to catch his breath and shoot an 'I knew I could handle this' look at Garrus, who still seemed relatively unimpressed. He hadn't fixed it, after all. EDI was the one to thank.

Garrus was just glad Shepard would be getting off that damn thing in one piece. So glad that he hardly paid any attention to what EDI told Shepard about the turian distress call. Joker, too, focused solely on his omni-board, busying himself with scanning over the data they'd piled up during the brief time they were connected to the Collector ship.

It wasn't until Garrus turned away and was nearly halfway out of the cockpit that Joker noticed something, something that EDI hadn't picked up during her brief conversation with Shepard. "Uh… Comander. We've got another problem." Garrus caught wind of a single word and turned around, hurrying back over to Joker's side. "The Collector ship is powering up." The sight of the heat signatures all over the once-cold ship had all the blood draining from his cheeks. So Shepard really was incapable of staying out of harm's way. Excellent. "You need to get out of there before the weapons come online. I'm not losing another Normandy!"

Beside him, EDI's light flashed as she quickly began to run over the data. "I do not have full control of their systems." She paused. "I will do what I can. Sending coordinates for shuttle extraction."

Garrus was out of the cockpit before any of them realized he'd lingered behind for long enough to hear everything. The sound of his footfalls alerted everyone in his path, and they had just enough time to step aside before the turian went rushing past. His arms bore the brunt of his weight as he came to a full stop inside the elevator. No matter how many times he pressed the button that brought him down to Engineering, the damn thing never went any faster.

Kenneth and Gabby both stared at each other in shock as Garrus ran past, tearing through the hallways in the direction of the shuttle. He was going to be on that shuttle. He should've been on it the first time. He should've been down there. Damn Shepard and her caution. The door to the shuttle was already open by the time he got there. Before he got in, he grabbed any gun in arm's length. It wasn't until after he was seated and strapped in that he looked at it. A hand cannon. The would do the job.

"Come ON!" he shouted, hands clutched around the weapon. Seconds felt like whole minutes as he waited for the shuttle to get a move on. His leg bounced as each moment ticked by. He'd never been particularly imaginative, but he could see what was happening unfolding in striking brilliance. There were Collectors. With Collectors came husks. With husks came scions. She was in danger. He should be there.

The trip was even more painful. By the time he got there, Joker was already cursing and telling her to move her ass before the ship blew them to pieces. Nerves were getting the best of both the pilot and the commander, whose language grew increasingly colorful with every passing moment.

"Stop talking, Joker!" he could hear her shout over the comm. "Just stop talking!"

The shuttle was hardly level when Garrus pushed the door open and jumped down, thrusting a heat sink into the gun and moving forward as quickly as he could. He could hear the howling of husks in the background, as well as the blazing of guns. He counted them as he ran.

One. A husk curled its fingers around the dirt at his feet, pulling itself up with a moan. He clipped it in the shoulder. He twisted on his feet mid-run to give it another shot right in the back of its head.

Two. Garrus cursed to himself as he saw the tell-tale light of an abomination round the corner, its howls at a fever pitch as it ran directly at him. Jumping behind cover, he unloaded three shots into the thing's abdomen and hid himself from the blast. He launched himself over the cover and set off in a run. He had to get to her. If the weapons came online, that'd be the end. It'd be over. Everything, for them, at least, would be dust.

From out of nowhere, he was nearly knocked off of his stride by a husk. Tripping over his legs, he struggled to get one shot off on the thing. But before it could get in another swing of its arm, its legs were shot right out from under it.

Three.

"Garrus!?"

The turian turned towards the familiar voice just in time to see Calla skidding to a stop right next to him, holstering her gun and holding her hand out to help him in one swift movement. "What the hell are you doing here? I almost shot you!"

"We have to get out of here, Shepard!" Miranda shouted.

Garrus felt himself nearly lifted off of his feet only to turn and see Grunt half-raising, half-throwing him into a standing position. "Go, turian!"

By the time they all reached the shuttle, Joker was a hair's breadth from having a complete mental breakdown. Calla was shaking like a leaf as she settled down in her seat and strapped herself in. It took a few tries with her trembling hands, but she eventually got it buckled. But it wasn't fear in her eyes. She wasn't terrified or disturbed.

She was angry.

When they reached the Normandy and finally got far enough away from the Collector vessel to take a deep breath, Shepard threw off the buckle and jumped down from the transport. Garrus walked by her side, his long legs keeping stride easily despite her rushing. Miranda, too, tried her best to keep up, set on dissuading Shepard from talking to the Illusive Man in this state.

"Shepard, whatever he did was for a good reason. You have to believe me."

"We were almost _killed_, Miranda. Because of the Illusive Man's warped idea of how things should happen." Rage colored her words as well as her cheeks. Garrus had never seen her like this before, not with her own team. "The mission stands, but he needs to know that this bullshit will not be tolerated."

The Cerberus operative stopped dead in her tracks, blue eyes glittering in shock.

Shepard stopped walking and turned on her, eyebrows furrowed and index pointing directly at the other woman. "And if I find out you had any previous knowledge about this, you'll spend the rest of this mission staring at the walls of your office."


	6. Here For You

Garrus was standing outside of the comm room when Shepard wrapped up her decidedly short conversation with the Illusive Man. He expected to hear shouting, cursing, anything more than, well, nothing. He'd seen something terrifying in her eyes, and he knew what happened when her squad was compromised. After being on the receiving end of it not that long ago, he wasn't exactly eager to experience it again.

But when the door slid open and she took a step out, he was surprised to see that there was no world-ending storm that came with her. She looked calm. Collected, even. It wasn't until he reached out to touch her shoulder and she jerked away without a thought that he knew something was wrong.

The expression she wore was an apologetic one. "Sorry, Garrus," she murmured. Anyone who hadn't served with her before wouldn't be able to register the fact that he complacent mask the wore was just that. A mask. Who knew what was bubbling beneath the surface? "You mentioned a while ago that you want to talk. Do you think…"

"Of course, Shepard."

She gave a firm nod, glancing off down the hallway toward the tech lab then back to the armory. "Meet you in my cabin? Give me an hour." Shifting on her feet, she looked down at her armor. It was covered in remnants of the thick black and blue muck from the scions' shockwave. That coupled with her own blood and that of the Collectors made for one big mess. "I'm going to change first."

Garrus's mouth twitched in a hint of a smile. "Sounds good to me."

After waving off Chambers' questions and taking the long ride alone up to her cabin, Calla was ready to strip down and fall into her bed. She didn't need any of this. She was tired. She needed sleep, not more problems. Instead, she removed her armor piece by piece and padded into her en suite bathroom.

The water was scalding hot. Just like she liked it. If nothing else mattered, that shower would've been the greatest shower she'd ever taken. What messed it up was the fact that she saw the Illusive Man's smug face every time she closed her eyes. Despite her resume, Shepard wasn't a violent person by nature. That said, she'd have given anything to be face to face with him during that meeting.

She could feel his neck under her hands as she ran them through her hair. Part of her wondered if those cybernetic eyes would stop glowing once he was dead. Another part wondered if he'd like to see a dying star up closer. Preferably after being kicked out of the airlock.

No matter how hot the water was, she was trembling by the time she turned off the water and began to dry herself off. No one lied to her. No one intentionally endangered her crew for their own selfish reasons. It was obvious that he didn't trust her. If he trusted her, he'd have told her about the mission in explicit detail, including the fact that she was taking two of her crew into a damn Collector trap.

After Shepard returned to her casual clothes, she sunk into the chair in front of her private terminal. Her elbows ached where she rested them against the desk, but she didn't bother moving them, instead letting her head sink into her hands. She didn't know how long she sat like that. It could've been no more than a few minutes, or the greater part of the hour she'd told Garrus to wait before coming up. All that mattered was the fact that he did.

She heard the door slide open, but she didn't move. She felt like she couldn't. Her muscles were wired to the spot. "Shepard." There was a long pause. He didn't move from his place near the door until a sigh wracked her body. Before she knew it, a shadow moved over her. There was a weight in between her shoulder blades. "Talk," he said quietly, bending beside the chair so their faces were level. "Tell me what you're feeling."

"He knew _everything_," Calla began, her voice hardly more than a whisper. "He knew it was a trap. I don't know how I missed it. Everything was right there. I should have known."

"You couldn't have known. No one blames you for what happened."

Her arms fell down onto the desk and she looked at him, her eyes narrowed, brow furrowed. "I do. I blame me."

Shepard stood suddenly, hands going to her hair. "How could he think this is okay? Hell, how could I even think for a second that he has my team's best interest at heart?" She moved away from her desk and Garrus. Her strides were stiff; her muscles, tense. "It's the Illusive Man we're talking about here. I've seen the things Cerberus has done with that… monster at the head."

As she spoke, she continued to pace. Back and forth, back and forth. Garrus watched her, not speaking. "But he claims what he's doing is for the good of humanity. I _saw_ what was inside of that ship. They had enough pods to hit Earth. Earth!" Her hands were starting to shake again, and she balled them up at her sides in a vain attempt to stop them. "If they hit Earth…" Her words trailed off into nothing, and she scrubbed her hands over her face. "They won't hit Earth. I've slowed them down for long enough. Completely disregarding the fact that he almost killed us."

She cast a look at Garrus that said nothing more than she knew she was grasping at straws to rationalize what was happening to her, to her crew. "This is going to keep on happening until we get to the Omega 4 relay. It's like he enjoys seeing how I operate under pressure." She paused, arms crossed, in the center of the room. "You know, I think that's exactly what it is. He wants to see me squirm. He brought me back just to fuck with me."

At that, her expression darkened. "And I've pulled you all together, just like he ordered. I'm still going on with this mission. He's using my own patriotism against me." Shepard moved soundlessly back over to her desk and slouched down into the chair again. "If I deny him, I'll lose everything. If I keep going forward, losing everything is still a strong possibility."

He watched as her hand turned into a fist. Her knuckles gleamed white and the ball quivered before she slammed it onto the table. "I just don't _understand_," she growled. "I'm letting Cerberus use me like a puppet. I'm gathering people for a suicide mission. I'm gathering _friends_ for a damn suicide mission." Her eyes fell to her fist. She was shaking, but he didn't know how to comfort her. He was afraid that she'd just move away. "If they'd have asked me to do this years ago, I would've accepted without a shadow of a doubt. But now that I know what it's like…"

Calla sucked her bottom lip into her mouth, biting down hard on it to keep it from trembling. "I don't want to die again. The idea that the possibility is right around the corner is terrifying."

She glanced in his direction, and he saw that her eyes were glassy.

"I don't want you to die because of me."

Her voice was heavy with self-hate. A different woman sat before him. Two years ago, Shepard was easily the most confident woman who stepped into his path. She changed him, inspired him to do and say things he'd often smothered to keep his father proud. He'd never seen this side of her, not before they'd met on Omega. Death could really change a person.

Garrus didn't give himself time to second guess his own actions. His arms slid around Shepard, and he was surprised to find that she did not pull away. Instead, she turned her body towards him, her own arms curling around the turian's neck, and seemingly melted into his embrace.

"Shepard," he whispered, his mouth mere inches from her ear. "I'm not here because I agree with anything the Illusive Man has done. I don't. He's the head of an organization that could crash and burn and I'd watch it with a smile on my face. I'm not even here because of the threat against humanity. Or even the entire galaxy. I know too much to even begin to think that the galaxy has anything to offer me for my loyalty."

He pulled away just far enough so he could see her face. With the back of a talon, he wiped a freshly fallen tear from her cheek. "I'm here because you asked me to be here. I'm here for you."

Before he had the opportunity to say another word, her mouth was on his.

Garrus would never admit to anyone that he'd dreamt of what this would feel like. Nights were lonely on Omega, especially when you didn't have the credits or the opportunity to get drunk. When he was surrounded by nothing but men, which was often, he thought about her. About what it would've been like to be with her. For so long, his feelings were nothing but idol worship. Even he knew that it was true.

But after she was gone, something changed. The realization that he felt more for her than just respect hit like a charging krogan. He hated himself for only grasping at that after she was long gone. While he tried to force the what ifs away from his imagination, the feat proved to be impossible.

He could feel her hands along his neck. Her fingers were warm and calloused, just like he remembered from that night back on Earth. Part of him felt as if he was taking advantage of her, but that single nagging voice was silenced as she tugged him even closer to her. The feeling of her tongue on his lips was unlike how he'd imagined, but he broke the kiss.

"You have to be careful," he murmured. His voice was thick, more of a purr than anything. "My teeth."

Garrus was silenced again as Shepard yanked his face forward, nearly knocking her chair backwards in the process. He was surprised to find that she knew the dangers of navigating the mouth of a turian. Pleasantly surprised, but surprised. Her tongue was hot against his, and the sudden contact elicited a quiet rumble in his throat. His hands moved over her back, sliding down the curve of her waist, and he felt her shudder at the sensation.

The kiss was over before he knew it. She pulled away slowly, as if she regretted her own decision before she made it, and she looked up at him with a glint of doubt in her blue eyes. "I… Garrus, I don't…" What did she want to say? Why couldn't she say it? The words clung to her throat, unwilling to go any farther.

"What is it, Calla?"

Her brow furrowed as she shut her eyes. "I don't _know_. I want…" She lifted a hand to his face, fingers barely tracing along his mouth. "I want this, but I don't know… Damnit." The wrinkle in her brow deepened. She couldn't find her words. Of all the times in the world for her to lose them.

Garrus leaned forward, nuzzling her cheek with a warmth that melted any of her hesitation away. "I don't need any explanations. Like I said earlier, I'm here for you."

She spent so much of her time worked up over what was going on. Dreading the mission. Despising the Illusive Man for what he'd done. Missing Williams' friendship. Missing home. Missing the feeling of safety however fleeting. No matter where she went or what she did, she would never be safe. Even in this cabin, her entire body wracked with fatigue from conflicting emotions, her arms curled tightly around her closest friend and heart hammering against her ribs, she didn't feel completely safe.

But it was close enough.


	7. Talks

"So, Garrus, huh?"

Shepard's throat burned as her coffee lodged itself there. She didn't cough or hack or spray a fine sheen of hot liquid all over the snaky pilot. Instead, she winced as she forced it down without any more of a physical reaction. Joker kept on about his business, deft fingers fiddling with this and that on the omni-board. "Garrus and I what?"

"Come on, Shepard. I'm not stupid," he replied tersely, turning just enough in his chair to look up at her. His eyes held a thinly veiled challenge, as they often did. Tell him he's wrong. Tell him his "sources" are incorrect and there's nothing going on.

"I'm not going to play guessing games with you, Joker."

The pilot gave a heavy sigh and turned back to his work. "He's not leaving much to the imagination. Especially not after that little stunt he pulled a few days ago."

She heard about it from Kelly, who'd launched into a long, one-sided conversation as Shepard tapped her way through unread messages at her terminal. How worried Garrus seemed. How quickly he'd run past her to the hull. She could tell he was a good man - trustworthy and loyal. She always wanted to find someone something like him. All women did, deep down.

While it was hard to ignore the yeoman as she only reiterated her own thoughts, she hid the small smile on her lips behind a curtain of red hair. A simple, "yeah, he's a good guy," was all it took to get Kelly off of her back and silent.

"There's nothing going on," Shepard muttered, taking another sip from her coffee. "If you had the speed and agility, I'd expect to hear about you hauling ass to help me out, too."

"Yeah, whatever. I'm just saying that maybe you should talk to the guy. He's a damn mess."

It was amazing how little it took to soften Shepard up. Her brow creased, and she moved forward, resting a hip against his station, much to his annoyance. "What do you mean?" she asked him. "Is it really that bad? I didn't realize…"

"Look, Shepard, you're busy saving the freakin' galaxy. I'm sure he understands."

"Understands _what_, Joker?" Shepard snapped.

The pilot gave a shrug. "That this is a one-sided thing. It's common as hell with you."

That hurt. It hurt a hell of a lot more than Joker meant for it to hurt, and he could see that from the way she looked away from him, peering instead into the almost black liquid in her cup. She just wasn't into relationships as much as she had been before Kaidan. Back before the whole ordeal on Eden Prime, when she was easier to talk to and _much _easier to flirt with.

Seeing a nuke go off from space and knowing the guy you were mooning over was standing right by it wasn't the easiest life hurdle to vault over. Biting down on her lip, she shook her head. "It's not like that," she said. She hated how brittle she knew her voice sounded. Why couldn't she just swear off feelings and concentrate on the mission at hand?

"Then tell him that. Stop jerking him around."

"I'm not jerking him around!"

Joker rolled his eyes and held up his hands, as if to say, 'That's you. Not me. Keep me out of it.' Of course, trying to keep Joker out of everyone's business was like trying to keep a little kid away from sweets. It just didn't work. Already tired of this conversation, Calla pushed herself away from her station and set off down the bridge towards the elevator. She met Kelly's eager smile with a tight one of her own as she slipped past. Not in the mood for girl talk. Hell, not in the mood for any talk. Not with you. Not with Joker. Not with anybody.

"Commander!" she heard the yeoman's familiar voice ring out behind her. Turning around, she gave the young woman a curious expression. "Garrus sent a message up not long ago. He wants to speak to you. It doesn't sound good."

Shepard didn't say anything. She just nodded and turned to make her way back to the elevator.

Kelly bristled a little when she knew Shepard was long gone. How one woman could be so… so _hard_, she had no idea. When she brought up the subject with Joker, he swore up and down that she wasn't always like this. The search for Saren changed her. Dying changed her. Then again, dying would change anybody.

The yeoman couldn't help but think, bitterly, that Garrus deserved someone softer. Someone more yielding, easier to get along with. She wasn't able to get to know the commander as well as the Illusive Man had hoped she would, but from what she saw, Shepard was perfect for this mission. Cold, calculating, and focused. Able to make decisions on the turn of a dime no matter how dire the consequences.

Then again… she didn't know the commander.

Down on the crew decks, Rupert gave Shepard a wide smile as she walked past. She liked Rupert well enough, and beamed a genuine smile right back. This happened every time she made her way past the sleeping pods and down the walk to where that turian spent all his time.

When the door slid open, Calla stepped in and shut it right back. For privacy's sake. Garrus turned around a moment later after tearing himself away from his work. He knew it was Shepard. No one else visited him here. It was obvious from the tension in how he held his shoulders and the almost animalistic gleam in his eyes that something was wrong.

"I have to ask you -"

"We should talk -" Shepard blinked at him. "I'm sorry for interrupting. You can go on."

Garrus shook his head. "You can go first."

Shepard's head sunk into her hands. She knew this was going to happen. The spark of awkwardness was there. She could feel it, and it was her fault. Why'd she have to kiss him like that? And why'd he have to like it? That spurred off an insane amount of questions in her own head. She didn't need all those questions whirring around.

Moving over to the crate beside his station, she settled down on it. Her muscles still ached from the last mission. Getting charged by a krogan and knocked into a stone pillar never ended well, no matter how badass you were.

"I just talked to Joker." Shepard cleared her throat, "Well, I guess 'talked to' really isn't the proper phrase. I was talked at."

Despite whatever troubled him, Garrus chuckled. "Yeah, he has a tendency to do that."

"He said I should talk to you," she stated plainly, tired of dancing around the subject. Nothing would get done if she spoke in similes and metaphors. "About what's going on. About us. He thinks this is one-sided." Biting down on her thumbnail, she looked up at him. "I couldn't exactly spill my guts to him right there. It's Joker. Everyone on the damn ship would know before the hour was out."

Garrus watched her intently as she spoke. This wasn't exactly the largest of his concerns at the moment, but he was going to hear her out. He hated that he could hardly focus on Shepard because of the anger the coursed through his veins, ripping and tearing through every bend. "We know it's not, Shepard." He paused, mandible flaring. "At least… I think we know it's not. Don't we?"

Damn his awkwardness.

Shepard groaned inwardly. "The fact that you have to ask that question is enough to believe him. Right now just… isn't the time to talk about it, I suppose. I haven't been sleeping, and you - you obviously have something that's bothering you. So it's your turn."

"I got word about Sidonis." The words were pulled from his lips before she'd even had a chance to urge him on. Instead, she watched as he began to prowl the small inner chamber of the forward battery. There was always something primal about the turian species, but she'd never placed it. At that moment, Garrus all but _embodied_ it. "Evidently there's this broker called Fade. He makes people disappear. Sidonis went to him after what happened with my men."

He turned to shoot a look at Shepard. "I can't just let him get away, Shepard. He betrayed my trust. He's the reason my men were killed. I've never had a lead like this. This is my opportunity to find him and make him - make him _pay_ for what he did."

"Garrus." Shepard stood from the crate and moved over to him as quickly as she could. Her hands went to his face, resting against each side. "Calm down." Their eyes were inches apart. His were filled with a mixture of anger and sadness that almost cut like a knife. Hers were softer. Entreating. "Tell me what you want me to do, and it'll be done."

"Fade is on the Citadel," he said. His voice wavered, but he steadied it as best he could. "I want to find Fade. He'll know where Sidonis is."

Shepard drew his face down closer to her height and pressed her lips to his cheek. She didn't move away, but lingered there. "I'll tell EDI to plot a course to the Citadel. Are you sure this is what you want?"

Garrus pulled away from her. What kind of question was that? Did she doubt his motives? He had the weight of ten dead men on his shoulders, and she was unsure of how they should proceed? He knew how he wanted to proceed. And that road only led to a bullet buried deep into Sidonis' damn skull.

"It's not just what I want, Shepard. It's what he deserves."


	8. Not What He Needs

Three hours.

Calla gave Garrus three hours after he disappeared into the forward battery before she went to talk to him. Three hours wasn't enough time. She knew that, but she couldn't stand waiting around in her cabin for any longer. Not after what happened. He was angry with her. She let the end of his guilt walk away without a scratch. If he was anyone else, she would've been the one with the sights on the crown of her head. Thankfully, he wasn't anyone else.

Her footsteps echoed past the sleeper pods as she made her way down the walk to the sealed door. She didn't know what she was going to tell him. Hell, she didn't even know if he was going to let her in. There was a chance he'd ignore her request, and she didn't want to force entrance. Pulling upon the perks of being the commander wasn't something she did willingly.

Standing in front of it, she ran her hand over the orange access pad. She could barely make out EDI's voice on the other side, asking Garrus if he wanted to allow entrance. While she couldn't make out a response, the access pad changed to green and the door hissed open.

Garrus was standing at his terminal. He didn't even bother to turn around in greeting. Instead, he continued working, only hesitating when he heard the door close again, a talon hovering over the orange omni-board. He didn't want her here. Not now. He had a lot of work to do. By work, he meant replaying the day's events over and over in his head on a silent track of _I should have killed him, I should have done it_.

"I'm here to talk." Her voice filled the air around him despite the steady hum. For once, he didn't welcome the sound.

"You've said enough, Shepard. I don't want to talk."

She could almost feel the tension emanating from his tightly wound muscles. The tension, the anger - it was all there. "Then don't talk," she spat back. Keep your temper in check, Calla. Keep it reined in. This isn't his fault. It's your fault. No matter how many tracks her conscience went on, her mouth refused to follow instructions. "Listen. You think you can handle that, Vakarian?"

He didn't respond. She hadn't expected him to. Not after what she'd done. After the conversation in the transport, she couldn't help but see someone other than Garrus in his blue eyes. It wasn't him talking; it was the physical manifestation of survivor's guilt and a long simmered anger. When she saw Sidonis, the first words out of her mouth were a warning. Garrus is here. If you run, you're dead. Stay with me. Talk. We can try to fix this. I'd rather not have my friend be branded a murderer. Do you want a bullet in the back of your head?

"You should be thanking me right now," she growled, "You felt like you had the blood of your men on your hands. I get that. You thought it was your fault. Anyone standing that close to something like this would feel that way." She couldn't stand still anymore. All the anger built up inside of her from this entire mission was starting to color everything around her. She didn't want to be here. She didn't want to be shouting at him. Her strides were short as she paced the small room. "If I let you kill Sidonis, his blood _would_ be on your hands. You think you feel guilt now, but it'd fucking eat you _alive_ if I stepped aside."

Garrus didn't move. He didn't say a word. He hated himself for how clearly he focused on her words. He wanted to ignore her, to push her away or tell her to just leave him alone. But he knew she wouldn't leave. Not Shepard. She'd stay and she'd get in his face and tell him exactly how she felt. That's just the sort of woman she was. So instead, he kept his back turned, shoulders nearly hunched over the terminal.

She was wrong.

"I have blood on my hands. I know what it's like. Not just killing mercs or geth or whatever is thrown at me, but _friends_." She tensed up for a second, her heart lurching in her chest as her own ramblings forced her to remember the events on Virmire. "There hasn't been a day after I left Alenko on that damn planet that I haven't regretted my decision." Seeing Ash on Horizon hadn't helped, either. She wanted nothing more than to have the woman she saved just accept that fact and trust her, but it wasn't that simple.

"So be happy I didn't let you get your way." She'd stopped pacing by now, standing in the middle of the main battery, staring at the center of Garrus' back with fury in her eyes. "You don't have to thank me. I don't want it. But don't you _dare_ question my motives."

An arm shot out, grasping his shoulder with that surprising strength that always took him unaware. She whirled him around so they were almost face to face. His eyes were almost glittering with his own anger, but he didn't say a word. Right now, he didn't believe she deserved them. "I know you're pissed at me, but that doesn't matter. Keep your head in the mission." He was glaring down at her, defiant despite everything she said. Her voice lowered, "I could care less if you never speak to me again as long as you do what you're here to do."

The words were hardly out of her mouth by the time her heart heaved forward, desperately reaching out to try to snatch them back before they reached him. But Calla was stubborn. So stubborn that she wasn't going to take them back now that they were out there. Even though the look of surprise on his face almost broke her. Even though he opened his mouth, about to say something, and instead shut it.

She wasn't going to apologize when she meant every word she'd said.

"There are lives on the line here. It's not just my crew, but the entire galaxy. Again. And what I saw back on that Collector ship? They're going after Earth." He could hear a tremor running through her voice, but she didn't catch it or force it out. It remained - a reminder of how he'd seen her a week prior, shaking and near tears in anger and frustration. The memory of that day bled directly into the feeling of her arms around him, mouth pressed to his. What did any of that matter now? "Do you know what that means? Billions of lives. _Billions_. Of my own people. On my home planet."

She took a breath, and he half-expected her to falter. But there was a fierceness in his eyes that he remembered as clear as anything. He'd seen that gleam in her eye on the Citadel. As body of Saren Arterius lie on the ground below their feet, as she gave the instructions to leave the Council to die. She wasn't doing that for humanity. She was doing that for everyone. This was different.

"Why are you telling me this?" His voice was hardly more than a growl, a murmur tainted with the same anger she felt bubbling beneath her skin. "What does that have to do with me?"

The defiance in his eyes had Calla taking a step forward, almost threateningly. "We do what we have to do, Garrus." She heard the echo of the Illusive Man's words in her own voice. "Leave your guilt behind and get over it. Killing Sidonis wouldn't have brought your men back."

"No, but it would've felt damn good."

Calla's hand was on his collar ridge before she had time to stop herself. Shoving him back into his terminal, she let out a frustrated roar. He gave a shocked gasp in response, but he didn't have enough time to recover before she was standing right in front of him again, too close for any physical reaction. "This isn't you! Can't you see that!?" Her breath was warm on his face. Hot, even, as if she was breathing fire at him. "Or are your plates too goddamn dense for it to get through your skull!?"

"Get your hands off of me, Shepard." An underlying threat - she didn't think it was possible. Then again, the turian mere inches in front of her was surprising her at every turn these days. He could see her brow twitch, a hairline fracture in the furious mask she wore. "And get out."

"Fine."

She let go of his collar ridge and turned, not even giving him another look as she opened the door and left. No matter how much she wanted to look back. No matter how sour the apology turned on the end of her tongue. Gardner knew better than to try to strike up a conversation. No one gave her a direct look as she stormed through the Mess in the direction of the elevator.

The ride up to her cabin was too long and too quiet. She stood in the very center, hands clasped in front of her, and tried to take even breaths. Tried being the operative word. By the time she reached her destination, her chest was rising and falling, her breath labored, her eyes stinging. She was an idiot. Going to him with thoughts of apology and comfort. Leaving with nothing but his eyes boring holes of anger into her back.

After all they'd seen, all they'd been through. After his comfort, her kiss. It all boiled down to her ruining something before it even truly begun. It had her trying to play the therapist and failing miserably. She wasn't gentle enough. She wasn't tactful enough. Her heavy handed diplomacy paled in comparison to his quiet strength. While he was just what she needed, she was eons away from what he required. Not today.

Shepard collapsed onto the chair in front of her terminal. She couldn't even comprehend how much of an idiot she'd been down there. She should've been quieter. She should've just walked away. But maybe this was for the best. The Illusive Man once told her she should cut all ties to the past.

And while Garrus was part of her present, he reminded her too much of how things had once been.


	9. Lost and Insecure

"EDI, plot a course for the Omega 4 relay."

Shepard hardly caught the AI's prediction of the time of arrival as she stepped away from the galaxy map, more than a little perturbed by the aggressive red gleam coming from the representation of the relay. There was just so much riding on this. So much of it reminded her of the trip towards Ilos. That night was spent in front of her terminal, staring into the digital glow, trying to ignore the sheer terror of realization as it crept in on all sides. She expected the next two hours would be more of the same.

Hugging her arms close to her chest, Calla tried her best to focus on nothing in particular as the elevator made its way toward the very top of the ship. She needed to find a calm, but she was grasping for it with floundering arms, thrashing wildly.

The past week, after her "conversation" with Garrus, had been tough. At first, he remained in the main battery as she finished up her business. Dealing with Samara's daughter, with Mordin's cure. Any time spent together was full of tense silence. Any gaze met was pulled away. Any pangs of guilt or yearning were stomped out as quickly as they were lit.

And then, finally, she called him down to the shuttle. As usual, Garrus didn't bite back the comment that curled at his tongue when he realized exactly what they were doing. "You finally bring me on another mission, and it's straight into a busted up old Reaper. Fitting." She'd ignored him mostly, deafening herself to Jack's laugh and his throaty grumble of amusement, but part of her still smiled.

She feared she still did not have his trust. She didn't have enough time to fight for it. The opportunity was long gone.

Stripping out of her Cerberus uniform, Calla made her way into her personal bathroom for what she hoped would be a relaxing shower. Warm water always made her feel better. At least, it had. As she shut her eyes and let the water run over her, it felt wrong, as if some part of her was willing her out of it, pushing her out of the steady stream and into her cabin. It felt futile. Meaningless. Something to fill her time instead of something to enjoy.

Once she was clean, Shepard switched off the water and dried herself. Indulging like that just felt _inappropriate. _The empty ship, a missing redhead, a missing _crew_ - and she was in her cabin, taking a leisurely shower. She pulled a towel haphazardly around herself, staring into her reflection. Her skin was paler than she remembered it being before the accident. The scar through her eyebrow was gone, replaced by a thin, almost glowing line in her cheek, a consequence of her own actions. And on her mouth was a scowl. With some effort, Shepard was able to wipe the grimace off of her face as she slipped out and into the chilly air of her room.

The running water kept her from hearing her door open and close. Her own thoughts kept her from seeing the figure out of the corner of her eye. It wasn't until she heard a throat cleared that she jerked to attention, eyes flashing from the terminal to the door. Her heart gave a painful skip.

"Do you need something, Garrus?"

He seemed lost from the moment she opened her mouth, glancing around the room instead of focusing in on the commander. Words cluttered around in his mouth, impossible to untangle. She stared up at him wearing an expectant expression. "I," he began when he finally found his voice again, "I wanted to thank you."

"Thank me?" Shepard gave a humorless laugh, turning back to her terminal. "We're not through the relay yet. You might want to save your thanks for _after_ the mission."

"It's not that," he pressed, taking an unconscious step forward. "I wanted to thank you. For everything. If things were different, I might still be working for C-Sec. This… This is a lot more than I ever expected for myself, and it's your doing."

Calla turned her eyes back towards the turian. She hadn't been expecting that. If anything, she thought everyone she strung along resented her for it in some small way. With all that had happened recently, she expected to find that Garrus was one of the more fiercely adamant naysayers. "I don't know about turian women," she murmured, "but us human females? We don't usually turn down a man in uniform."

The comment, while intended to be humorous, hardly moved on her lips. She just couldn't do it. Resting an elbow on her desk, she placed her forehead flush against the palm of her hand.

Garrus' own lingering resentment ebbed the moment he heard her sigh, an almost mournful sound in the quiet of her cabin. This wasn't the time to be angry at her. He was her friend, at the very least, and a friend wouldn't just idly stand by and watch her fight herself in silence. He wasn't selfish. He knew she wasn't either. If she was selfish, she wouldn't have done what she did for him on the Citadel.

They were running in blind here. There was a good chance that none of them were going to make it. The glaring blatancy of his own mortality was enough for him to cast aside any lingering animosity he held towards her. She had so much to hold up on her shoulders, and she couldn't do it like this, bent over her desk, questioning herself.

This was all it took for him to push aside any of his feelings and move forward. Shepard gave a little gasp of surprise when she felt his strong hand sliding across her back, guiding her into a standing position. She glanced up at him, only to see a light of empathy in the eyes she'd so often seen as cold lately. Part of her knew this wasn't forgiveness, but the other part didn't care.

Curling an arm around his neck, she hugged him. Tightly. He was surprised by the gesture, but it only took him a moment to gather himself and wrap his arms around her waist.

_If you need anything, Shepard, _anything_, I'll be here…_

"You should rest, Shepard." Garrus' voice was a rumble in her ear, and she nodded blindly, eyes closed, face pressed against the warm, rough skin of his throat. Her hair was still damp, and it smelled sweet - a foreign scent he quickly pegged as something she often wore. Pulling away slightly, he led her towards her bed, strong arm curled around her shoulders.

He watched as she stepped away from him and climbed onto the pristine white sheets, nearly collapsing on the pillows. But when he turned to leave, it was her turn to clear her throat. He looked back at her, mandibles flaring in question. She was looking up at him, legs curled in the fetal position, pillow punched into a comfortable size beneath her head.

"No story this time?" she asked. There was a bit of teasing in her voice, but also a bit of sadness. She remembered how things were with Garrus during the beginning of this mission, before all the fear set in and she started to get clumsy. The banter, the face paint, the few almost-kisses that left them frustrated. The bedtime story.

When Garrus hesitated, her lip turned in the corner of her mouth in a hopeful smile, and he caved. But this time, there was no awkward shifting. There was no tense comfort, no unsure movements. He crawled into the bed next to her and settled into the curve of her body, his own adapting as she scooted closer, resting her head in the crook of his arm instead of on her pillow.

"You don't really have to tell me a story, you know. So no pressure."

Garrus' tremulous chuckle was enough to have her lips spread in a smile. He could feel her once-rigid muscles melt into comfort in his arms.

Of everything he could do, just being near to her never seemed like the answer. He didn't realize how easy it was to please the commander. Even after all these years, he hadn't quite grasped the idea that underneath all of her accomplishments and her quick temper, there was just a woman.

"But I have so many lined up…"

* * *

**A/N:** Sooo... it's getting close, you guys. And I know what you're thinking - a scene before the relay, where's the sex!? Well, since I started things off differently, I thought I should probably put another spin on this scene. So I apologize if any of you thought Calla and Garrus would end up getting busy. Who knows? You might still get what you came here for. Cue devious laughter.

I already have the suicide mission almost finished, so it shouldn't be too long before I get another update up. Keep an eye out!

Also, I'd like to leave a little note here that only pertains to one or two of you out there, and none of my current reviewers. If you don't like what I'm doing, tell me. It's not that hard to click the "review" button at the bottom right there. But _don't_ talk shit about this in reviews of other peoples' stories. Not only is it immature, but it probably makes the other writer uncomfortable, as well. Just thought I should toss that out there.


	10. Destruction

She couldn't breathe.

Every time she turned around, there was another foe, another blast. The almost mechanical buzz of Collectors' wings filled her head. She could feel the heat of their lasers on her skin. The sound of the Collector General's booming voice echoed long after its host body burned into nothing. She could hear Tali in her ear. Too hot. Having trouble breathing. Next valve, Shepard.

She pushed herself until she couldn't push anymore. Access pad flashing green, and then it was on to the next one. Beneath her armor, her skins was slick with sweat. Each time her lungs expanded, she was filled with a sharp pain. She was hurt. She didn't know where. But she had to do this. She had to make it. She had to push. Tali was still in the vents. Garrus' squad was taking fire. Humanity - humanity needed her. She could not fail.

One shockwave followed another, knocking her foes from behind cover to who knew how many stories down. Her kinetic shields were down moments after they regenerated, and she gritted her teeth as a shot buried into her shoulder, knocking her back. Vaulting over cover, she darted to the next one, lungs on fire as she gasped for air. Zaeed sprayed cover fire as she yelled out for their help. Shields down. She could see red.

Back pressed against smooth black metal, Calla gasped for whatever air she could find. Tali was shouting for help in her ear, and she could see the next pad. Glowing green, close, but far away. Shepard shouted something to Jacob before removing herself from cover and darting towards the console. Her left arm gleamed orange for a moment as she ran her hand over it, unlocking Tali's path. No one spoke their thanks, no one gave an apology.

Ducking behind the nearest blockade, she looked around for the next one. It wasn't far, but the floating stations were full of Collectors. Two well-aimed bullets from the Widow ripped through unsuspecting grunts, leaving four behind. Zaeed tossed out a heat sink. It glowed orange for a moment before it caught the organic on fire. Jacob pulled another out of cover only to shoot a round right through its head.

_Assuming direct control._

Shepard let out a scream of frustration as she vaulted over the cover and ran down to regroup with the other two. Tali's comments were coming in faster than before. The heat was rising in the ducts. They were so close. _So close_. She could actually taste it. It tasted like copper on her tongue.

The three of them squeezed off as many rounds into the possessed Collector as possible. Zaeed's rifle was cradled in his arms. Jacob's shotgun shells tore into the organic. But it wasn't enough. They needed something more. Calla's entire body began to glow with dark energy, a bright enough spectacle to distract Zaeed, who stood and stared as her body surged forth, through everything that stood dividing her and the Collector. The impact threw it backwards, but it didn't kill the thing. The almost point blank explosion of her shotgun finished the job.

Sprinting forward, Shepard's hand clumsily ran over the green console, leaving Tali to finish what she was there for. And then Garrus was there, filling her head with more words she could hardly make out. They were at the rendezvous point. They needed help. Zaeed and Jacob gave cover fire as Shepard darted into the now open door to help Tali. Door's stuck. Can't get in. _Garrus_.

Finally, the quarian's skills clicked into place and the other door opened, letting everyone else in. Mordin, Thane, Miranda, Samara, Legion, Jack, Grunt. Garrus. Unharmed. That was all she needed to know, and her heart was pounding so hard in her chest she felt it would shatter her sternum. Whipping back around, she yelled orders for Legion to shut the other door.

For a long moment, Shepard half-expected the door to not close. No matter how hard Tali worked at the pad, the door refused to shut. Collectors were swarming. They were going to get in. They were cornered. They couldn't be cornered, not with such inferior numbers. Goddamnit, Tali, hurry up.

When the door finally slammed shut, Shepard finally took a breath.

That breath was stolen away when she heard a shout from behind her. It was Jack. "It's Chambers!" Shepard's entire body tensed. Holstering her hand cannon, she half-ran to the biotic to where she stood in front of the pod. There she was - Yeoman Chambers with her red head sunk low. Was she dead? Unconscious?

Calla got her answer when the young woman woke with a scream. Eyes wide; confusion. Hands pounding on the pod, mouth agape with each soul-shattering screech. Pain. Too much pain. Her skin became mottled. Red, blistering, falling. Clawing for them to help her. More yelling, strangled sobs. Black. Falling, falling, and shrieking.

And all Shepard could do was watch in horror, the flush of her skin retreating, leaving nothing but wide eyes and parted lips. "Get the other ones out!" she yelled, too overcome with horror to even so much as lift her hands from her sides.

One by one, her squad broke off, each of them attacking the pods containing the Normandy's missing crew. The butt of Garrus' rifle shattered the glass leading to one of the techs. Miranda struggled and heaved to open the one where Chakwas stood. Kenneth Donnelly stirred from his half-conscious state with a broken cry of his own. Shepard's heart struggled to keep beating. Gabby. Not Gabby.

It took everything Shepard had to keep her voice level as she spoke to Chakwas, thankful for the darkened visor of her helmet. No one could see her tears when they couldn't even see her eyes. The doctor stood before her; shaken and hardly keeping herself together. She blamed her for taking so long. She blamed her for Kelly, for Gabby, for Rupert. No matter how truthful her words were, Shepard didn't need the blame. Not now.

Finally, Shepard was given another decision. Another three decisions. She sent Thane to bring the crew back to the Normandy. Samara was in charge of the biotic barrier that would keep her, Grunt, and Jack away from the seeker swarms. And, again, Garrus would lead the second team. Between them, a silent promise was shared. She trusted him. He believed in her. There were no words. They didn't need them.

The next fight was harder than the last. Inside Samara's biotic bubble, it was difficult to see what enemies lie outside of it. Only when she heard Samara's warm, relaxed tone announce oncoming fire did Shepard draw her submachine gun, popping a heat sink into the gun and watching it come to life. The Collectors weren't expecting them. It wasn't just the element of surprise, but she could feel their desperation as the krogan and the biotic unleashed a flurry upon them they hadn't predicted from their enemy. They expected them to fall, to be crushed by superior numbers. They didn't get far with those expectations.

Husks were tossed aside with a wave of Jack's arm, crushed under the power of Grunt's charge. Shepard lifted a Collector into the air and then slammed it back to the ground with a crunch. All the while, Samara held the barrier. She did not budge. She did not waver.

Still, no matter how hard they pressed, more kept coming. Not just husks, but scions and abominations. Collectors. Grunts with hardly more than the weakest of shields and those possessed. When they moved forward a yard, they were pushed back, only prompting them to push harder. She could hear Garrus clearer now. He was giving them Hell, and those _things_ deserved every bullet. Word of his team's success filled her with all the confidence she needed to keep going. Her team stuck right beside her, ready to fight until they couldn't.

And then they saw it - their destination. Samara's will was slipping, but she pushed on, her slow walk turning into a labored struggle that turned into a full on run. Shepard shouted for them to hurry, her shotgun blasts taking out husks as they grasped for purchase on the ledge. Grunt was the first one that pulled away from the seeker swarms, whirling around to release a barrage of cover fire as Shepard and Samara made it.

The asari fell to the ground with a strangled gasp. She couldn't go on any longer. The barrier was slipping. Failing.

Shepard's memory flashed back to that night on Omega, searching for the justicar's daughter. VIP section of Afterlife. Music that ground into her soul. She tried so hard to do as Samara asked, but she hadn't been able to snag Morinth's attention. Calla bored her. She left. Disappeared. Samara had been so close, so near to finally finishing the quest that filled up her life.

Then it was gone.

A black cloud of seeker bugs descended upon Jack, whose shotgun couldn't disperse them fast enough. She let out a scream as she was lifted from the ground, her entire body twisting frantically as she tried to fight her way out. Shepard shouted her name, throwing her gun into Samara's arms as she ran through the doors to try to grab her. A thin arm parted through the cloud, inked and desperate, and she could see the young woman's face distorted in grief and anger and pain as she tried to reach Shepard. Tried and failed. Tried again.

She'd trusted her. The girl who'd finally opened up was being stolen away, right before the end. She'd lost so many. She couldn't lose her, too. Not Jack. Not after fighting so hard with her by her side. Broken and vulnerable Jack.

Shepard felt two thick arms around her waist as Grunt hauled her back through the door. They couldn't lose her to the seeker swarms, too. She let out a scream of protestation, clawing at the krogan's thick skin. "I can't leave her behind! We can still sa -" The door separating them from the long corridor slammed shut with a shocking finality that silenced the commander.

Tearing away from Grunt's heavy embrace, Shepard staggered forward, her senses overwhelmed to an almost breaking point. She felt nothing. Heard nothing. Smelled nothing. Jack. She'd lost Jack. It was her fault. Kelly. Gabby. Rupert. Jack. Their faces whirled around in front of her eyes as she stared forward, focused on nothing. It was as if she'd killed them with her own two hands. So many lives were gone.

She was torn from her thoughts by a hand on her shoulder. It wasn't heavy. Grunt stood far behind her, ejecting the heat sink from his shotgun and plunging in another. Samara was far off - exhausted, hardly able to stand, focusing all of her energy on revitalizing herself. Calla's eyes fell to her shoulder to see three familiar talons.

"Where's Jack?" Miranda's familiar voice echoed behind them. Shepard felt a shudder in the center of her chest. Samara's murmured response garnered a, "bloody bugs," from the Cerberus operative. She was actually hurting. After all she and Jack went through, she was hurting.

Shepard shrugged Garrus' hand from her shoulder, turning around to look him in the eyes. "I'm not taking you with me," she said, her voice low and shaking, but resolved. "I ca - I can't take you with me."

"I'm going with you, Shepard," he replied, his tone unshakeable.

She mustered a single, feeble glare at him, though her helmet kept him from seeing it. "You're not coming with me. If you come with me, you'll _die_. Just like the rest of them."

_But if you die here, I won't be able to tell you… _Her thoughts trailed off into nothingness, and she shook her head to dash them away. She didn't need them. She needed to focus. She needed to finish this - without Garrus. If he stayed here, away from whatever dire fight lay before them, he would be safe.

"Calla," her name was like a treaty on his tongue. "I…"

"Stop. Don't say a word. Save it for when this is finished."

Garrus gave a firm nod, and just like that, their conversation was over. Shepard was forced to make her way into the group. They needed her words. They needed her confidence, what sad and pathetic pieces were left of it. "Well," she began, clearing her throat as she looked from face to face.

"We've lost a few good men and women in this fight." Samara was standing, as sure as ever, her vitality regained. Regality radiated from her, chin tilted upwards in pride, eyes sparkling. "We came into this with the knowledge that we might not be going back, that our greatest expectation was complete and utter destruction." Thane was beside the asari, full of his calm strength, hands clasped behind his back, wide black eyes focused on Shepard.

Her focus went to Tali and Legion. They were standing side by side - geth and quarian, a milestone she never expected to throw herself over. "We have made it farther than anyone expected. That in itself should be enough to pull our asses out of this." Jacob was tending to a wound on Zaeed's upper arm. It looked nasty, and the merc grimaced to himself as Jacob did what he could. "Now that we're here, there's no turning back. We can only go forward."

Miranda stood out in front, her blue eyes full to the brim with patience and gleaming with a rage built up over so many years just waiting to be released. "And we're going to go forward. We're going to bring those Collector bastards fire." Beside her, Garrus stepped up, chin tilted down to look into Shepard's eyes. She stared up at him for longer than a moment before looking away and into each face before her. Not seeing Jack standing there was difficult, and for a while she was afraid her voice would tremble. Instead, thankfully, her words were strong; powerful. "We _will_ get out of this."

And they brought them fire.

Shepard took Mordin and Zaeed with her. She needed Mordin's tech, Zaeed's gun. They hit the Collectors head on. There was no holding back, no mercy, not even a straying thought of guilt as their bullets tore through the shields and skin of their enemies. Between whizzing bullets and the piercing mechanical whine of the particle beam, all she could think of was the end. This was the end. They were so close.

But, as usual, things were only just beginning. What she once saw as dangerous, a few near-death experiences strung together with pain and loss, now seemed like the calm before the storm. As their floating platform reached its destination, Shepard's eyes widened. Her mouth fell open. This… _this_ was what they were after. A human Reaper. Staggering science aside, the monstrosity had to be destroyed. There was no other option.

The Illusive Man felt otherwise. His familiar face stared at Shepard from the glow of Mordin's omni-tool. He offered her a choice. Destroy the Collector base or take the knowledge compiled for their own use. The answer came from her lips easily. She'd seen what this research did to people. She'd been forced to watch as Kelly was reduced to nothing but a thick muck. And now Jack was dead. There was no option other than destroying the base. The Illusive Man fought back, but, in the end, it was her choice. She chose to blow this place to Hell and gone.

Her team fought hard. Each soul-splitting whine of the Reaper's laser sent chills down Shepard's spine. She could hear Zaeed's bullets ricocheting off of the slick metallic 'skin' of the creature, followed by the sound of crackling Collector flesh as it was set afire by Mordin's plasma rounds. Leaving cover, Shepard reached for the particle beam rifle on her back and fell into position, her aim directed at the thing's weakest spot - its eyes.

This continued for what felt like an eternity. Leaving cover. Firing the rifle. Ducking to avoid the beam aimed directly at her. Each time she felt the pulse of adrenaline starting to subside, a surprising shot and quick drain of her shields brought her back into the action. Every so often, she could hear Garrus shouting in her ear, giving her the situation, reminding her why she was out here in the first place. Why she had to get out of here alive.

The death throes of the human Reaper brought its heavy synthetic fist down onto the platform they stood on. Before she knew it, she was watching the mercenary fall onto his stomach, sliding downwards. Without so much as another thought, Calla threw herself forward, shouting out for him to grab onto her hand. Her eyes widened as he slipped from the edge, his fingers barely grasping onto the side for long enough.

His palm was rough and calloused in hers. She could feel him falling. He was too heavy. Her heart caught in her chest as she grabbed at his forearm with her other hand, her entire body surging with just enough adrenaline to lift him up.

"Charges are set, Shepard," Mordin called out behind her. "Extraction necessary. Quickly!"

And then they were running. She could hear Garrus begging for details on the situation in her ear. _Shepard, answer me! Damnit! _She led the two others, shotgun clutched in her arms as she gave them cover fire. Collectors were swarming from all sides. Her muscles cried out for rest, but she pushed on, denying them their pleas for relief. _Shepard! What is the situation!?_ Garrus' voice intermingled with the voice of Harbinger, whose heavy threats echoed between her ears.

The three of them parted from the maze-like hallways of the base and onto another string of platforms. She caught sight of Joker standing in the opened airlock, assault rifle poised in his arms. Garrus, too, stood there.

A Collector lunged from her right, and she went to smack him with her shotgun only to have its thick, black blood spray over her chest and shoulder. Her eyes flew to Garrus to see him thrust a new heat sink into his sniper rifle. "Mordin! You first!" Shepard and Zaeed ducked behind cover as the salarian doctor gave a running start towards the Normandy. Jerking her head back, she saw him make it, but she didn't have enough time to breathe a sigh of relief. "Zaeed!"

"Fuck that, Shepard," the merc shot back, popping out of cover to bury a shot into an oncoming Collector's throat. "You're the goddamn hero here! You go!"

"I swear to God, I _will_ punch you again!"

Zaeed spat another string of curses before stumbling out of cover and taking off towards the ship.

"Shepard!" Joker's voice rang out above everything, and it tore her away from the two Collectors heading her way. "Hurry up!"

Her arm pulsed blue as she let go of a powerful wave of force, knocking both of the things onto their backs for just long enough. Returning her shotgun to its spot on her back, Calla thrust herself into a standing position, and she ran. She ran, but she wasn't fast enough. There was a loud bang, and the platform bridging the gap between hers and the Normandy went crashing downwards. She had to keep going. She had to jump.

The last time she felt that weightless, she was watching the SR-1 float away in burning pieces.

Her heart all but stopped as she moved forward in the air, waiting for the Collectors' bullets to tear into her back. But the bullets never came. Garrus' cover fire wiped the platform clean of enemies.

All air was knocked from her lungs when Shepard hit the side of the ship, her arms desperately seeking some purchase on the floor of the opened airlock. Before a few terrified heartbeats passed, she felt herself being lifted up and into the ship in two very familiar arms. Joker was gone back to the helm. Mordin rushed back into the Med Bay to deal with the wounded. Zaeed was on his way there, as well, his arm now bleeding profusely after Jacob's poorly handled patch up.

That left Garrus.

The turian nearly smashed his hand onto the access pad that shut the airlock door. When it was closed and they were left, quite alone, he stared down at her. They were both out of breath - Shepard, from the run and the pain shooting down her right side, Garrus out of sheer terror. "I - I didn't let him keep the base," she gasped, her body pressed flush against his out of exhaustion.

But he wasn't interested in what had happened. He was eager to see if she was okay. His palms went to her helmet, removing it and casting it aside. Her skin was pale - paler than it had ever been, and her sweat was cold. Clammy. "Were you hit? Are you okay?"

"I tried to patch myself up when I had the chance," Calla said quietly. Her attempts to twist in his arms stopped when she felt her entire back erupt into what felt like flames. She fought to dig her fingers into something, to bite back the pain, but she was only met with the slick feeling of Garrus' armor in her hands. She coughed, her entire body trembling within the confines of her own armor. "Don't think it worked."

"We have to get you to the Med Bay," Garrus murmured, slipping a strong arm beneath her knees and lifting her up off of her feet. She wasn't easy to carry by any means, but necessity drove him to ignore any of his weaknesses.

He could hear Joker cursing to himself as they made their way as quickly away from the Collector base as was possible.

Shepard buried her face in the warm crook of Garrus' neck, oblivious to any of the worried crew who stood in the CIC. Miranda nearly lunged at the turian, eager to get the situation, though she was swiftly denied as he half-ran in the direction of the elevator. By the time they were on their way down, he could see she was slipping in and out of consciousness. "Come on, Shepard." His voice was low, hardly more than an angry growl. "Don't die on me again."

That was the last thing Shepard heard before everything went black.


	11. Epilogue

The first thing Calla Shepard noticed when she regained consciousness was that she was alone. Or she felt alone. She couldn't see anyone standing by her, waiting to check on her condition. This was followed by a stream of realizations. The Medical Bay was too brightly lit for her eyes. The examination table was uncomfortable. The only sound she heard was a faint whirring and a quiet tap, tap, tap. And she felt naked.

Her hand fumbled clumsily over her chest. Skin, skin, bandage, skin, pants. She _was_ naked, at least from the waist up.

When Chakwas heard her patient fumbling to sit up, she stood from her chair and made her way over to the examination table. She clucked her tongue against the roof of her mouth, a gentle, yet firm hand going to Shepard's shoulder. "You'll hurt yourself," she said quietly, and as if on cue, the commander winced, hand going to her side. "See? You were wounded rather gravely, I'm afraid. Garrus wasn't entirely sure you were going to make it."

"And let the Collector's kill me again? I think _not_," she replied, punctuating her comment with a small laugh despite the pain that shot around her ribcage. She remembered the particle beam. She also remembered bullets. Garrus wasn't the only one shocked that she made it.

For a long moment, Chakwas believed that Shepard would lie back down and get the rest she required. She shouldn't have been surprised when Calla began looking around the Medical Bay, sliding her legs carefully over the side of the examination table. "Crutches," she murmured, half to herself, "You have to have crutches."

"Where do you think you're going?" the doctor asked, a single gray brow arched high on her forehead. "You need to lie down, Shepard. Don't -" Her hands went to steady Calla's shoulders, but the soldier moved away from her. "- get up. I can bring him in here."

Shepard shook her head, sliding off of the examination table. Her bare feet hit the ground, jarring the wound on her back. She hissed in pain, but refused to let that stop her. Instead, her hands grabbed for the crutches Chakwas produced out of nowhere, pulling them under her arms and making her way, slowly, out of the Med Bay.

The doctor kept a level eye on her through the window that opened up into the Mess. Immense pride warmed her to the very core as she watched the commander move towards the main battery. The three crewmembers seated at the table stood when they saw her approach, giving her a solemn, thankful salute. Even Gardner snapped into position, a hint of a smirk at his lips betraying any ceremony he might've been trying to preserve. Shaking her head, Chakwas took her seat, wiping at her eyes as she turned them towards her terminal.

Shepard bit back each annoyed curse that tried to fight its way out of her with every slugging step she took. The door seemed so far away, and it was only getting farther at this pace. Her heart was drumming against her chest, skipping and racing and threatening to stop altogether. She didn't know how long she'd been out or what had happened since. There was probably a ton of fallout waiting for her, but she didn't want to deal with any of it. Not yet.

Her fingers arched from where she was holding on to the crutches, straining to reach the panel. She couldn't reach it. Muttering to herself, she moved forward, trying to wave a hand in front of the access pad in order to open the door. It didn't work. "EDI," she called out, "I need you to open the door."

"Of course, Shepard," the ship's AI replied. The door hissed open not a second later.

As she expected, Garrus was standing there at his terminal. Calibrating something, no doubt. The door opening alerted him, and he turned around, mouth opening to tell whoever was there that he was busy. Words stuck in his throat at the sight of her.

Three days. Three days of worrying. Three days of distancing himself from the crew. Three days of silence from the Med Bay. He thought he'd lost her. But no, she was standing there, her expression somewhere between discomfort and relief. "Shepard," he breathed, not able to will himself from that very spot. No matter how much he wanted to hug her, to feel her in his arms, he knew that she was hurting. He didn't want to make it worse.

"You look surprised," she chuckled. Her expression distorted as her wound gave a pang to remind her it was still there. "Everyone seems surprised. Like I haven't come back from the dead before or something."

Garrus' chest heaved in a thankful bubble of laughter. "We should've learned our lesson by now."

They both shared a smile. The room was quiet save for the steady hum that often filled the space. There was so much she wanted to say, but the medication was blurring things before they reached her lips. He didn't want to say anything only to have her forget that he'd said it. What he wanted to tell her, he wanted her to remember.

"This is the part where you're supposed to kiss me," Shepard said matter-of-factly. Hung upon her full lips was a smirk - a smirk that told him that he wasn't going to break her if he tried. With that worry cast aside, Garrus took a few short steps forward, bridging the gap between them. He was careful not to touch her waist, though he wanted nothing more than to hug her, to clutch her tightly against his chest to make sure this really was her.

Instead, he leaned forward, his cheek nuzzling against hers. She could feel his breath against her skin, the tickle of his mandible on the tender skin beneath her ear. "_Oh_," Calla murmured, letting herself drift forward until her chest was pressed against his. "Or you could do that." He was so warm. Her mind reeled as the feeling brought her back to her last vivid memory. His strong arms lifting her up. The warmth emanating from the rough skin of his neck. His whispered pleas.

The realization of his own mortality brought him to her before the Omega 4 relay. Her mortality allowed him to forgive her for any stupid decision she'd ever made. He couldn't lose her again, and he couldn't harbor that anger for her if any night could be their last.

* * *

  
**A/N: **So that's it, folks!

I have a confession to make. This story was only supposed to be a oneshot, but I'm _so glad_ you guys persuaded me to keep going with it. Calla's a major pain in the ass sometimes, but I enjoy writing her. This won't be the last time you see her, though, so keep an eye out in the future. :)

Thank you all for your encouraging reviews over the weeks!


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